Greater Good
by 00AwkwardPenguin00
Summary: A late night call for help leads to the strangest case Team Gibbs has worked to date- and Tim McGee is right in the middle of it. Team-frienship, PapaGibbs. CaelumFelis is now 00AwkwardPenguin00!
1. Chapter 1

Greater Good  
>An NCIS Fanfic<br>By CaelumFelis  
>Disclaimer: I do not own NCIS or anything associated with it.<p>

* * *

><p><em>Gibbs Residence<br>__Hawthorne, Washington DC  
><em>_0329 EST_

Special Agent Leroy Jethro Gibbs sanded away rhythmically at the plank of wood in on his workbench, allowing his mind to go blank and his body to relax. He hadn't had a chance to decompress like this in at least a month, after a rather long, frustrating case involving more forensics and computer work than he particularly cared for. It had put him in a bad mood for weeks, with the team walking on eggshells around him to avoid getting reamed out. McGee especially had seemed particularly on edge, although Gibbs had simply put it down to babysitting the ridiculous number of searches he had to run for this case. The older man had to admit, though, that McGee had really come through on his angle of the case, pulling leads and connections out of nearly empty cyberspace, and practically solving the case by himself. As a reward for all of his hard work, Gibbs had let him go home early, without finishing any of his paperwork, telling him to take the next two days to unplug. Tony had put up a fuss, but a sharp headslap and a threat of doing Tim's paperwork on top of his own had shut him up. Ziva had smirked at the senior field agent before handing Tim his coat and bag and promising to bring him over a little something for dinner. Gibbs had nearly laughed out loud at the nonplussed expression on Tim's face as all of this positive attention poured on him, the poor kid didn't get nearly enough credit for all the work that he did.

After he'd seen Tim off (congratulating him privately for a job well done), he'd made sure that Tony and Ziva did their paperwork as he did his own, then he'd sent everyone home, instructing them not to come back for two days as well. He'd gotten everything cleared and turned in, made sure Abby and Ducky and Jimmy were squared away, and then went home to begin working on that year's shipment of toys for the Toys for Tots program.

He put the sander down and stretched out his back, jumping when his cell phone began to ring from where he'd left it on the basement steps. Wondering who on earth could be calling at such an hour, he went to pick it up, grumbling to himself.

"Gibbs," he growled.

"… _Boss?"_

"McGee?" Gibbs' eyebrows shot up in surprise. "Speak up, I can barely hear you."

"… _Boss… help…"_ Tim's voice was weak, and very faint, immediately setting off alarms in Gibbs' head.

"Tim? Tim, talk to me, what's wrong?"

A weak cough, a groan of pain, and then a nearly inaudible whisper. _"…H-help, Boss… hurts… …Boss… please…"_

Gibbs' heart was thundering as he raced upstairs, stuffing his feet into sneakers as he did. "Tim, where are you? Where are you right now?"

The few seconds it took for his youngest surrogate son to reply nearly had Gibbs' stomach in his throat. _"… Home, Boss… T-they b-b-broke into m-my apartment… …w-woke me up…"_ Another groan of pain, and Gibbs put on another burst of speed, jumping into his car, turning it on, and peeling out of his driveway and down the street in a matter of seconds. _"H-hurts… Boss, h-help me… please, Boss… don't want 'em… t-to hurt m-me again…"_

"I'm on my way right now, Tim, just hold on," Gibbs soothed, trying to keep the horror he felt at the terrified vulnerability in Tim's voice out of his own. "Tim, I'm gonna hang up and call Ziva, and then I'm gonna call you back, okay? Just stay awake, I'll only be a second."

"_B-B-Boss, please… d-don't… don't l-leave…"_ Gibbs' throat tightened as Tim's voice quivered in fear and pain.

"I'll only be a second, Tim, I promise," he said gently. "I'll call you right back, and Ziva will be there with you in a few minutes. She'll make sure that no one will hurt you."

"… _O-Okay, B-Boss…" _Tim whimpered.

Gibbs gritted his teeth and disconnected, the beep of his phone as he ended the call sending a stab of pain like a spear through his heart.

_Marines never leave a man behind._

Shaking his head, he quickly hit Ziva's speed dial, barely waiting for the muffled grunt of "David" before beginning to speak. "Ziva, I need you to go to McGee's apartment immediately, fully armed."

"_McGee's apartment… Gibbs, is something wrong?"_ Suddenly the Israeli was wide awake and judging by the sounds Gibbs could hear through the phone, in the process of getting dressed.

"Tim was attacked at some point last night, some bastards broke into his place," Gibbs explained tensely. "He's in pain and terrified, and I can't get there fast enough. I need you to go over to his apartment and make sure that he's safe, and see if you can find any trace of his attackers."

"_I- __Of course, Gibbs, I shall leave immediately,"_ she said, sounding flustered for the first time since Gibbs had known her. _"What is the nature of McG- Tim's injuries? Shall I call an ambulance?"_

"That might be a good idea, Ziver," Gibbs said. "I wasn't able to get much out of him besides him saying that he hurt. I gotta hang up now, Ziva, I promised Tim I'd call him back. Get there as fast as you can, you hear?"

"_I understand, Gibbs. Tell Tim-"_ She cut off, and Gibbs could hear her taking a deep, shaky breath. _"-tell Tim that I will be there as soon as I can. He is not allowed to pass out until I get there, make sure he knows that."_

"I will, Ziver," Gibbs replied. He hung up, and immediately dialed Tim's phone again. His heart was in his throat as he listened to it ring, and he barely bit back a sigh of relief when Tim picked up.

"Hey, McGee, how're you doing?" He asked, trying to keep the worry out of his voice. It was exceedingly difficult, however, as he listened to his agent's pained coughs and groans through the oddly tenuous cell phone signal. "Tim? Tim, can you hear me? I need you to answer me, buddy, I need you to tell me you can hear me."

"_B-Boss?-va c-coming? S-sc-red, B-Boss…-n't l-leave-lone a-ag-gain-ase, B-Boss "_ Tim's weak, terrified voice kept breaking up as the signal kept dropping. Pulling the phone away from his ear for a split second, Gibbs frowned at the full bars on his cell's screen, which meant that Tim's phone was the one that kept losing the signal. However, Gibbs knew for a fact that Tim's phone was the best on the market at the moment, because if there was anything Tim McGee knew backwards, forwards, inside, and out, it was electronics. Even before he made a fortune on his book, he always tried to have the best electronics he could afford. Therefore, it made absolutely no sense for Tim's phone to be on the fritz, unless it was damaged somehow in the attack on Tim himself.

A sudden beep, and Gibbs jumped, staring at his phone in shock. _Call lost _blinked red letters on the small screen, and he felt his heart jump into his throat.

_Hang on, Tim._

He pressed the gas down harder.

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note: I'm back! Missed me? Yeah, I've got a ton of free time now, and I've got access to FFN, so I can post and update again! Yay! Anyway, here's the first chapter of my latest work in progress, which I will try my darnedest to update as much as possible. Oh, and the inspiration for this story came from Emerald1's <strong>_**Cape Fear**_**, and Alessandriana's **_**Ignition.**_** Just wanted to put that out there so that no one bit my head off about stealing stuff. I'm a big fan of both stories, so I hope that y'all enjoy my measly offering as much as I enjoyed their incredible tales. Go check 'em out sometime! In the meantime, rate and review!**


	2. Chapter 2

Greater Good  
>An NCIS Fanfic<br>By CaelumFelis  
>Disclaimer: I do not own NCIS or anything associated with it.<p>

* * *

><p><em>McGee Residence<br>Silver Spring, MD  
>0345 EST<em>

Ziva reached Tim's apartment less than ten minutes after Gibbs hung up, racing up the two flights of stairs to his front door, which stood ominously open, the wood around the doorknob smashed in and the doorknob itself in pieces on the floor. Ziva immediately drew her weapon and cautiously entered the small one-bedroom, which she had left only a few hours ago after bringing her youngest teammate a much deserved home-cooked meal. The plates, glasses, and silverware used that evening were still in the sink in the kitchen, waiting to be washed, but the two pots she had used to cook and transport the food were sitting on the counter between the refrigerator and the sink, practically gleaming in the orange light of the streetlamp outside the window. Ziva smirked to herself that was Tim through and through.

Walking past the kitchen, she entered the main room of the small apartment, where Tim kept both his computer and the workbench he used to repair his typewriter. This area, usually kept as neat as possible despite the fact that Tim usually spent the majority of his leisure time here, looked as though a spinner had passed through it tools, wires, and other objects that Ziva was having trouble identifying scattered everywhere, some in pieces, some still intact. Tim's computer monitor, one of only a few luxuries he had bought for himself after his book became a best seller, was smashed almost to bits, and she could still smell the acrid stink of burned electrical wires.

Moving back to what Tony called "Tim's McNovelist Nook", she nearly gasped at the destruction. His precious typewriter, upon which he had written two novels and was working on a third, was completely destroyed, as was his vintage record player and the majority of his record collection. His extensive library of books was in tatters upon the floor, and his smoking jacket was ripped to shreds.

Alarmed at the amount of destruction she was finding, Ziva moved to his bedroom, stubbornly silencing the small voice in her head that warned her how embarrassed her teammate would be to find her in there. The first thing she noticed was that the upholstery on the large, comfy chair in front of the window was slashed through, revealing the soft white stuffing underneath. As she scanned the room, nearly as destroyed as the main room was, she saw blood on the left hand side of the empty bed, where Tim usually slept. Suddenly, she became aware of a dark lump on the floor behind the bed, and crossed the tiny room in two steps to find Tim curled up on the floor, unconscious, the skin not covered by tattered and stained t-shirt and boxers painted in black, blue, and purple bruises and bright red welts and cuts. He was lying in a terrifyingly large pool of blood, which seemed to originate from his chest and stomach.

"Tim!" She kneeled down beside him, gently running a fingertip down his hairline, smoothing the disheveled light brown hair back as she discovered a large duck egg on his temple. He moaned as she removed his t-shirt as gently as she could and tried to staunch the bleeding, and it was all she could do to keep from breaking down in tears or punching a fist through the wall at the sound of her sweet friend's pain.

"_Shhh, shechet, achi,"_ she murmured to him, gently stroking down the side of his face as he groaned again. "You are safe, I will let no one harm you again. Do not worry, Gibbs will be here soon, and an ambulance is on its way. You will be fine, I promise. Rest now, _achi_, my brother. I will protect you."

Ziva stayed by Tim's side for another five minutes, until she heard the light but fast footsteps of Gibbs running through the apartment complex and into Tim's unit. She looked up as he entered the bedroom, his icy blue eyes narrowed and furious as he took in the destruction of the room and the blood stains on Tim's bed.

"He is unconscious, and his breathing and pulse are very weak," Ziva reported quietly, as Gibbs kneeled down next to her and gently pressed two fingers against the pulse point in Tim's neck.

"You called an ambulance?" He asked tersely, settling himself on the floor and absently stroking Tim's hair, smoothing it down.

"Yes, they should be here at any moment," she replied.

"Good," he sighed. "Go outside and wait for them. Call Tony and get him over here, and then call Ducky and have him meet me at Bethesda. I'll stay here with Tim."

Ziva wanted to object, seeing her teammate, her brother in such a state had shocked her to her core, and she did not want to let him out of her sight, but seeing the worry and grief on her boss's face convinced her not to push her fortune. She simply nodded, gently kissed Tim on the forehead, and stood, dropping another kiss on the top of Gibbs' head. She carefully made her way out of the destroyed apartment, careful where she stepped to avoid disturbing evidence. When she reached the open air hallway outside the apartment, she sagged against the brick wall and fought once more against the tears that threatened to overwhelm her. With a shaking hand, she pressed Tony's speed dial, listening as his groggy, sleep thickened voice answered on the fourth ring.

"_DiNozzo."_

"T-Tony, it is Ziva," she said quietly, trying to take a deep breath to keep her voice from shaking. "You need to come to Tim's apartment. There has been… he needs our help."

"_Ziva, what happened to Tim?"_ She had never heard Tony's voice so sharp and cold, and it frightened and comforted her at the same time.

"He… Tony… he was attacked, in his own apartment," Ziva whispered. "He was beaten to unconsciousness, and his home was garbaged."

"_Trashed, Ziva, his home was trashed,"_ Tony corrected absently. _"I'm on my way right now. Does Gibbs know?"_

"He called me, he told me to come and stay with Tim until he arrived," Ziva replied. "I have called an ambulance, they should be arriving at any minute."

"_Okay, I'll be there in ten minutes,"_ Tony said. _"Don't worry, Zi, we're gonna find these bastards and we're gonna make them wish they'd never laid a hand on Tim. We're gonna make them wish they'd never been born."_

"I… I look forward to it," Ziva growled, turning her sorrow and grief into cold rage that she could use to track down Tim's attackers and teach them the fallacy of harming one of their own.

"_I've got a couple of evidence kits in the back of my car, we'll start processing after the ambulance picks Tim up," _Tony said. _"Is Gibbs going with him?"_

"I believe so, he is with Tim right now," Ziva replied. "I have to call Ducky, Gibbs wants him to meet them at Bethesda. Tony… could you please tell Abby? I… I can't… she trusts you the most, after Gibbs."

"_She trusts you too, Zi, but yeah, I'll tell her,"_ Tony sighed. _"Shit, that's not a conversation I'm looking forward to. Okay, Ziva, I'll see you in a few. Don't go killing anyone until we know they're involved."_

"I will… do my best," Ziva said absently, distracted by flashing blue and red lights down the street. "I must go, the ambulance is almost here. Tony… please hurry… I do not… I do not want to process Tim's apartment by myself."

"_I'm going as fast as I can without getting pulled over, Zi. I'm no Bruce Willis."_

"You certainly act like it sometimes," Ziva teased halfheartedly. "I will see you later."

"_See ya, Zi."_

Ziva hung up, then called Ducky. The old Scot picked up on the fourth ring, sounding rather disgruntled.

"_Dr. Donald Mallard, Medical Examiner."_

"Ducky…" Ziva could barely get the man's nickname out before the tears she'd been holding back suddenly burst forth, and she sat down heavily and pulled her knees to her chest as she sobbed.

"_Ziva, my dear, is that you?"_ Ducky's voice softened immediately, causing Ziva to cry harder. _"Ziva, what's wrong? Are you injured?"_

"D-Ducky… T-Tim w-was… Tim was attacked…" Ziva sobbed. "Ducky… it is terrible… they d-destroyed his a-apartment… h-his computer… h-his t-typewriter… Ducky… he is unconscious… they beat him so badly…" Her ability to speak English abandoned her, and she dissolved into broken phrases in Hebrew, all the while sobbing harder than she could ever remember. She could hear Ducky trying to comfort her, she could hear the ambulance siren in the parking lot two stories down, and suddenly paramedics were racing past her into Tim's apartment, and she could hear Gibbs calling to them from Tim's bedroom. A few seconds later, strong arms were wrapped around her, and Gibbs was gently taking the cell phone out of her hand and talking to Ducky as she sobbed into his chest.

"Duck? Yeah, Tim's been attacked," he said gruffly, a worried edge in his voice that Ziva had rarely heard. "At first glance, looks like whoever did this came at him with some kind of blunt object, like a baseball bat or a nightstick, or even brass knuckles. He's got a goose egg the size of Texas on his temple, and he's pretty much covered in bruises and welts and cuts. He's also been slashed in the chest… No, he never got a chance to get to his weapon… he's got some pretty bad bruises and lacerations on his arms, probably from self defense. He's going to Bethesda …. yeah, Duck, that'd be great. … Okay, see you in a few… Tony and Ziva are gonna process the scene, and then they'll be over. … No, I don't know who's calling Abby… as bad as it sounds, Duck, I just can't deal with her right now, she's gonna go nuts when she finds out. … Y'know, Duck, she can afford not to know for a while. Let her get a full night's sleep. I'll call her before she leaves for work. …Okay, Duck. See you." He hung up, and handed the phone back to Ziva, who slipped it into her pocket and wiped her eyes.

"Tony is going to call Abby," she said quietly. "I… I asked him to. I could not… I could not hold being the one to tell her…"

"Handle, Ziver, handle," Gibbs corrected softly, squeezing her gently before helping her up. "And I don't blame you, don't worry. You okay now?"

"No," she whispered, rubbing her eyes roughly as she tried to keep the tears from overwhelming her again. "I will not be okay until Tim is well again. I will not be okay until these… these… these _beni zonot_ are caught and put down like the animals they are. I will not be okay until I know _why_."

Gibbs nodded, smiling grimly. "As soon as you and DiNozzo are done here, come on over to Bethesda."

"Yes, Gibbs," Ziva replied, just as the paramedics were coming out with Tim strapped gently down on a stretcher, an oxygen mask covering his nose and mouth. He was horribly pale and completely covered in bruises, but the worst part, now that all of the blood had been mostly wiped away, was that the cuts on his chest formed a word, _META._

"Oh, _achi_," she whispered, reaching out a hand and trailing her fingers gently down his arm as he passed. Gibbs gave her one last squeeze, kissed her forehead, and hurried after them, leaving Ziva trembling in the hallway, feeling more alone than she had ever felt in her life.

"Oh my _G-d_… _Probie…"_ Tony's voice, shocked and quavering, floated up to her, and she closed her eyes and whispered a prayer of thanks that she would not be left by herself.

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note: Didn't expect an update so soon, did ya? ; P <strong>

**I don't know if any of you noticed, but the language of this chapter changed a bit from the first chapter. That's because this chapter is from Ziva's point of view, so there are no contractions except those used by other characters, and I even tried to mess up a few idioms. See if you can find them and correct them...**

**BTW, the next two chapters are gonna come really fast, like today and tomorrow, and then after that everything's gonna slow down, and I'll post chapters as I finish them. Hopefully I'll actually FINISH this one... wish me luck!**

**Rate and Review, please!**


	3. Chapter 3

Greater Good  
>An NCIS Fanfic<br>By CaelumFelis  
>Disclaimer: I don't own NCIS or anything related to it.<p>

* * *

><p><em>McGee Residence<br>Silver Spring, MD  
>0358 EST<em>

Tony screeched to a stop in front of Tim's apartment building just as they were carrying his partner down the stairs to the ambulance he'd parked illegally behind. He scrambled out of his car and met them at the foot of the stairs, staring at Tim's bruised and battered form in horror.

"Oh my _G-d… Probie…"_ He exclaimed, falling into step on Tim's right side, gently taking his hand and brushing his normally perfectly groomed hair back from his forehead, unable to keep his eyes off of the gruesome cuts on Tim's chest. "Jesus, McGoo, what the hell happened to you? Boss, what the hell happened to him?"

Gibbs shook his head, looking older than Tony remembered. "He called me about half an hour ago, said some bastards broke into his apartment and that he hurt. That's all he could tell me, that he hurt. The call dropped before he could tell me anything else."

"Wait, the call _dropped?_" Tony asked incredulously. "There's no way. McComputerGenius probably has his own satellite by now, there's no way his frickin' _cell phone_ dropped the call. Maybe you passed through a dead zone or something on the way over, Boss."

The glare Gibbs gave him immediately shut him up. "I had full bars the entire way from my house to here, DiNozzo."

Tony frowned, and took out his own cell. "I've got full bars too," he murmured. "That's so weird. Why did McGee's phone go all kinky while ours are perfectly fine?"

"What the hell?" One of the paramedics yelped.

"What's up, Jeff?" The other EMT asked, as Tony and Gibbs ran over to the ambulance that held their youngest partner.

"The equipment's shorting out!" Jeff growled, watching helplessly as first the heart monitor, then the EKG machine shorted and crashed. One by one, every machine in the ambulance failed, and the four men were helpless to do anything until Tony became aware of a strange moaning sound.

"Tim!" He yelled, vaulting into the back of the ambulance and practically tossing the EMT in his path out the door. "Tim, it's okay, it's just me, Tony." He grabbed his surrogate younger brother's hand and held it as firmly but gently as he could, running feather-light fingertips up and down the younger man's bruised, cut, and swollen arm in an attempt to comfort him. Tim slowly settled down, his thrashing weakening and his cries slowly fading into weak sobs. But he didn't settle completely until Tony felt Gibbs standing behind him, reaching over his shoulder to place a gentle hand on Tim's forehead, his thumb gently massaging the area just above Tim's eyebrows.

"Easy there, Tim," Gibbs rumbled quietly, and Tony simply held his partner's hand as their boss soothed him back to sleep. All of a sudden, a chorus of beeps and rings erupted as the equipment came back online.

"What the hell?" Tony murmured, looking around. "This is seriously freaky, Boss. What the hell is going on?"

"I don't know, DiNozzo, but I'm gonna find out," Gibbs growled. "You go help Ziva process his apartment, and then meet us at Bethesda. I'm going with him."

"Will do, Boss," Tony said, forcing back his disappointment that he wasn't going to be the one riding with his Probie. He leaned in close to Tim's head, gently squeezing his hand as he whispered in his ear. "You hear me, Probie? You hold on. We're gonna find the bastards who did this to you, and we're gonna make them pay. You just hold on and leave everything to us. We're gonna get to the bottom of this, I promise." He gently squeezed Tim's hand one last time, and carefully climbed out of the ambulance, grabbing one of the EMTs as he was climbing back in.

"You keep him alive until he gets to the hospital," he growled, slamming the man against the door. "You don't let him die, you understand me? Keep him alive, or I'll kill you myself."

"I'll do my best, sir," the EMT replied evenly. "That's all I can do."

Tony swallowed hard and nodded, not trusting himself to speak. He released the EMT, who climbed back into the ambulance, slamming the doors. The vehicle peeled away, lights flashing and siren blaring, leaving Tony standing on the sidewalk, trying desperately to keep his whirling emotions from overwhelming him. Finally, he felt calm enough to go upstairs.

He found Ziva standing outside Tim's apartment door, eyes red but anger emphasizing every line of her form. He could feel her rage practically from the end of the hall, and smiled. An angry Ziva was a focused Ziva, and a determined one. She wouldn't rest until the bastards who had hurt their friend were caught and punished, and her focus would help him keep focused.

"Okay, Zi, let's do this and get over to Bethesda," he said, striding up to her and handing her an evidence kit. She nodded silently, squaring her shoulders as she accepted the kit.

They went inside, Tony fighting back the urge to kill something as he scanned the wreckage that was his surrogate little brother's home. They began in the bedroom, where Ziva had found Tim, Tony photographing and sketching, and Ziva bagging and tagging. Ziva found Tim's cell phone, smashed to bits underneath the chair, and Tony got even angrier.

"Tony, there is hardly any evidence here at all," Ziva growled, tossing another evidence bag into her kit. "It is as though these attackers materialized out of slim air, and disappeared back into it."

"Thin air, Zi, thin air," Tony sighed. "And you're right, I don't see anything useful here either. No footprints, no finger prints, nothing. But we can't give up, Probie's counting on us. Let's start circling out. You take the bathroom, I'll start on the McNovelist Nook."

Ziva nodded, and Tony went back out to the main room, sighing with dismay at the huge library of books that lay in tatters on the floor of Tim's writing corner. Not only was it discouraging that someone would go to such lengths to destroy simple objects, but it was going to be a pain getting everything bagged and tagged and documented. However, he rolled up his sleeves and got to work, determined to figure out what Probie had in his library so he would know what to replace the destroyed books with after they got the place cleaned up.

"TONY!" Ziva's voice cut through the silent apartment like a knife, startling Tony. He dropped his camera and raced back through the bedroom to the bathroom, where Ziva was staring at the mirror over the sink.

"Ziva, what's oh my G-d… oh my _G-d…" _Tony's voice died as his brain fought desperately to understand what his eyes were seeing.

On the mirror, in bright red spray paint, read, _This is what happens when you try to run, FREAK! Death to all metas! Humanity reigns supreme! Now the world will know exactly what you are, and you will be destroyed like the rabid vermin scum you are! The Homo Sapiens Protection Society will prevail!_

"What the hell is this?" Tony growled. "Do they think he's some kind of freak out of a comic book or something? Is this why they attacked him?"

"Your guess is as good as mine, Tony," Ziva said, her voice tight with suppressed rage. "All we can do is catch these _mimitzrim_ and prove to them that touching even a hair on Tim's head is the worst mistake they could ever have made."

"You bet we will," Tony snarled, his hand going instinctively to his sidearm as his instincts roared to shoot something. "No one is ever gonna hurt my Probie again, not if I have anything to say about it!"

They painstakingly documented the find, photographing and taking samples of the paint for Abby to test. Then they quickly went through the main room, working back from Tim's "McNovelist Nook" to the kitchen. They processed everything, from Ziva's cookware to the food in Tim's refrigerator, hoping against hope that whoever had done this had gotten sloppy.

Finally, after nearly four hours, they were able to finish processing. Tony lugged all of the evidence down to his car while Ziva secured the apartment as best she could, practically sealing the doorway by plastering it in crime scene tape. Tony was waiting when she finally came down, and walked her over to her car.

"I'm gonna drop the evidence off at the Yard, and then I'm going over to Bethesda," he told her. "If you want, you can ride with me."

She nodded, and Tony could see that she was too exhausted and drained to speak. She got in her car and drove off, towards the Navy Yard. Tony cornered the building manager and smooth talked him out of all of the security footage from the last ten hours, and then he too drove off for the Yard.

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note: Now things are getting interesting... **evil grin** Stay tuned!<strong>

**Quick update: Thanks to dnachemlia's timely critique, I was able to correct an error in this chapter, so hopefully things read better now. Thanks so much! As you can probably tell, crime scenes are not my strong point, and this is my first published NCIS fic, so I'm still working out all the kinks. Critiques like that are very much appreciated!**


	4. Chapter 4

Greater Good  
>An NCIS Fanfic<br>By CaelumFelis  
>Disclaimer: I don't own NCIS or anything associated with it.<p>

* * *

><p><em>Navy Yard<br>Washington, DC  
>0752 EST<em>

Abby Scuito, Goth and forensic scientist extraordinaire, was already hard at work on the latest case for another MCRT when Tony and Ziva came striding in, carrying huge boxes of evidence.

"Morning, guys! Yay, you brought me presents!" Abby said cheerfully, bouncing over to two of her four favorite agents. However, the bounce went right out of her when she looked in the box Tony was carrying, and discovered a terribly familiar piece of machinery.

"Tony… why is McGee's typewriter in pieces?" She asked softly. Tony didn't answer her, simply put the box on the large examination table and started unpacking it. Abby stared as objects from Timmy's apartment, objects she'd become so accustomed to that she barely thought of them anymore, were laid out one by one on the table, some in pieces, others intact. When Tony pulled out Tim's dartboard, Abby gave a little sob and plastered herself to Tony.

"What happened, Tony? Why is all of Timmy's stuff in evidence?" She whimpered.

Tony wrapped an arm around her and turned to Ziva. "You go on ahead, Zi. We'll be along in a while. Get Gibbs some decent coffee."

Ziva nodded and walked out silently.

"Tony?"

Tony turned and rested both hands on Abby's shoulders, looking older and more serious than Abby ever remembered him being. "Abby, you know Tim better than any of us. Did he ever give you any indication that he was in some kind of danger?"

"N-no… no, never," Abby stammered, trying to keep herself calm. "Why? What's wrong with Timmy? Why is his stuff here?"

Tony sighed, and pulled out his camera. "About 0330 this morning, Tim called Gibbs for help. Ziva found him in his apartment, beaten nearly to a bloody pulp, and his place completely trashed." He took out the memory chip from the camera and inserted it into the computer, bringing up the photos from the crime scene. He pulled up one photo in particular. "We found this on his bathroom mirror. Any ideas as to who would put it there?"

Abby stared at the photo, the red paint and the abuse that was smeared across her best friend's mirror searing into her memory. _Oh my G-d… Timmy… how did they find him? How did they know?_

_Sarah… I have to call Sarah… I have to make sure she's safe… for Timmy…_

"Abby?" Tony was shaking her now, and she shook her head and threw herself into his arms.

"Tony, who would do this!" She wailed. "They think he's some kind of freak, but he's not! He's just a guy, a sweet, quiet, geeky kind of guy, but just a guy! Why would anyone hurt him?"

Tony gave her a strange look, then closed his eyes and sighed. "I don't know, Abbs. We're gonna find out, but I need you to process all of this. We couldn't get any prints at the scene, but maybe we'll get lucky with some of the other stuff."

Abby nodded, too shocked at the photo to register anything else.

"But first, we're gonna visit Gibbs and Tim, make sure that they're treating Probie right," Tony said, shooting her a small grin. "Come on, the sooner we can make sure he's okay, the sooner we can find these bastards who hurt him."

Abby nodded, but headed for her office. "Just give me a second Tony, I'll be right up."

"Uh… okay," he replied hesitantly. "I guess… I'll go warm the car up. Don't take too long, Abbs, poor Probie's gonna think we've abandoned him."

"Don't worry, I won't be long," Abby said absently. "I'll meet you upstairs, Tony." She went in her office and closed the sliding soundproof glass door, and sat down at her desk.

"Please, please, please, pick up, Sarah," she murmured as she dialed Sarah's cell phone number and waited for her to pick up.

"_Sarah McGee here,"_ came the voice of Tim's baby sister.

"Sarah, it's Abby," Abby said quietly. "I've got some bad news… Tim… they found him last night."

"_What? No… please, Abby… please tell me he's all right…"_ Sarah broke down in tears, and Abby wasn't far behind her.

"He was able to call for help in time, Sarah, he should be fine," Abby said, swallowing thickly to keep her tears at bay.

"_Are… are his friends suspicious?"_ Sarah asked, sniffling.

"I… I don't know," Abby replied. "They left a message on Tim's bathroom mirror, but I was able to convince Tony that I didn't know what it meant. But they may be coming after you next, I wanted to warn you, since… since Tim can't, right now."

There was silence, as Abby waited for Sarah to calm down enough to reply.

"_Th-thank you, Abby,"_ she gasped finally, fighting to get her sobbing under control. _"You're a good… good friend. I'm sorry you and Tim couldn't've… couldn't've been more."_

"I'm sorry too, Sarah," Abby murmured. "I've gotta go now, Tony's gonna take me to see Tim. I'll tell him you said hi, okay? You just concentrate on keeping yourself safe. Call my cell phone when you're settled. No matter what time of the day or night it is, as soon as you're safe, you call me, understand?"

"_Yes, Mom," _Sarah groaned sarcastically. _"I'll call you in a day or two… make sure these monsters pay for what they did to Tim. Promise?"_

"I promise," Abby said. "Stay safe, Sarah."

"_I will. Bye Abby."_

"Bye," Abby hung up, breathing deeply. She always hated it when anyone on her favorite MCRT was hurt, but this, being attacked for something so private, so personal, she couldn't imagine anything worse. And Timmy was such a sweet guy, so kind and thoughtful and polite and honest and decent, why anyone would want to hurt him like this was completely beyond her.

With a heavy sigh, she shut down her computer and grabbed her purse, turning off the lights as she left the room. She rode the elevator up to the lobby of the building, and went straight out to Tony's car, waiting outside the main entrance to the building.

"Drive, Tony," she ordered, staring straight ahead. Tony silently obliged, and when she glanced over at him, she could see his jaw set and his eyes narrow with worry.

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note: Okay folks, that's the end of my finished chapters. From here on out I'm going to be posting chapters as I finish them, so it might be a few days in between, or even a few weeks depending on my schedule and if I decide to finish a group of chapters together before posting them. I've got a pretty good idea where this is going, I just need to plot out the ending.<strong>

**Enjoy! Please Rate and Review!**


	5. Chapter 5

Greater Good  
>An NCIS Fanfic<br>By CaelumFelis  
>Disclaimer: I don't own NCIS or anything associated with it.<p>

* * *

><p><em>Bethesda Naval Hospital<br>Bethesda, MD  
>0826 EST<em>

Gibbs sat silently beside Tim's hospital bed, holding his unconscious agent's hand as his mind worked feverishly to understand who would attack his sweet-natured surrogate son. He especially wanted to know what the hell _META_ meant, and why the attackers had carved it into Tim's chest and stomach in six inch tall letters.

Aside from the sickening and puzzling cuts, Tim was simply beaten beyond recognition. He was concussed, and the fact that he hadn't awoken yet was worrying the doctors. Gibbs had been present in the emergency room, documenting evidence as the doctors uncovered it, as much as the task had made him want to vomit or punch a hole through a wall. The only thing keeping him going was the fact that he knew Tim would want everything done by the book, but it was a very, very near thing. Every bruise, scrape, and cut uncovered, photographed, swabbed, treated, and bandaged, sent one more jolt of rage racing through him, rage that he knew far too well. It was the rage that had sent him to Mexico in 1991 to put a bullet through the head of the man who had killed his wife and daughter, and the rage that he had felt at Jenny for manipulating Tony, his surrogate eldest son, the way that she had. The rage he had felt at Mikel for stalking Abby, and at the Jordanians for framing Ziva. The rage of a father whose children were being hurt.

Gibbs sighed and rubbed his forehead. Tim had been perfectly fine the previous evening, when he'd left the office. A little jumpier and more nervous than usual, but fine. It was amazing how much change a few hours could bring.

A knock sounded at the door, and Gibbs automatically reached for his SIG as the door opened and Ziva poked her head in, holding out a to-go cup from his favorite coffee shop as a peace offering.

"Come on in, Ziver," he said quietly, smirking. Ziva nodded and tiptoed into the room, shutting the door softly behind her. She had a strange look on her face as she handed him the coffee, one that he'd never associated with her before: for the first time since he'd known her, his ex-Mossad assassin actually looked… _hesitant._

"He's gonna be okay, Ziver," Gibbs murmured, setting the cup down on the rolling tray beside him and standing to wrap an arm around her shoulders. "All he needed was a couple transfusions, some stitches, and a lot of rest. He's gonna be out for at least a day, but he'll be able to go home tomorrow."

Ziva's voice was raw and quiet, but firm in her disbelief. "How could anyone do this? McGee… he is the kindest, most gentle person I have ever met, why would anyone attack him like this?"

"I dunno, but we're gonna find out," Gibbs promised. "Where's Tony?"

"I believe that he and Abby are on their way here right now, Gibbs," Ziva replied. "Tony… had to tell Abby about… Tim. She began to… get upset when we brought her the evidence from Tim's apartment."

Gibbs nodded. He didn't envy his senior agent one bit: Abby was a handful to deal with on a normal day, she was nearly impossible whenever a Team Gibbs member got hurt.

Fifteen silent minutes later, Abby burst into the room like a tornado, Tony hot on her heels, and headed straight for the unconscious agent in the hospital bed.

"TIMMY!"

"Abbs, calm down, he's gonna be okay," Gibbs said, grabbing her before she caused Tim even more damage. "He's just asleep, he'll be good to go home tomorrow. But you gotta let him rest, okay?"

"Home? Gibbs, he can't go home, not only is it a crime scene and trashed beyond belief, but these dirtbags know where he lives, they may come back for him! He's "

"Going home with me tomorrow, Abbs," Gibbs cut her off, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. "Believe me, I'm not letting him out of my sight until we've gotten these bastards. Until whoever did this is caught, he's staying at my place."

Abby nodded, biting her lip, her green eyes still worried. Gibbs eyed her, not entirely sure if she was hiding something or not. "Problem, Abbs?"

"Where's Jethro?" Gibbs could tell that that wasn't what was really bothering the lab bat so much, but he went with it. It was a good question, anyway neither Ziva nor he had thought about the dog's absence in their shock and hurry to get to Tim, and judging by the expression on Tony's face, he hadn't thought about the mutt either.

"Why don't you find out, Abby?" He said gently. "Tony, Ziva, did you find any evidence of the dog's presence at Tim's apartment?"

"No, Gibbs, I did not, although I will admit that I was not looking for it," Ziva murmured, eyes downcast.

"Crap! We should've noticed something like that!" Tony growled.

"Abby, find out what happened to the dog," Gibbs ordered gently. "Tony, go through McGee's history with a fine toothed comb, see if there's anyone Tim may have pissed off enough to have done this. I know it's a long shot," he said, interpreting Tony's scandalized expression, "but you know as well as I do that it's a possibility we have to look into. Ziva, go back to the apartment building and get witness statements and the security tapes."

"Boss, I already got the security tapes from the building super," Tony said. "Also, there's a possibility that this might have been a hate crime…"

Gibbs frowned at his senior agent. "What makes you say that?" His frown deepened as Tony shifted uncomfortably, taking out his smart phone and tapping the screen a few times before handing it to him. Gibbs grabbed the device and only paused long enough to dig out his reading glasses and jam them on before squinting at the picture Tony had pulled up.

_This is what happens when you try to run, FREAK! Death to all metas! Humanity reigns supreme! Now the world will know exactly what you are, and you will be destroyed like the rabid vermin scum you are! The Homo Sapiens Protection Society will prevail!_

"What the hell is this _Homo Sapiens Protection Society_?" He growled.

"Never heard of them," Tony said.

"Nor have I," Ziva added.

Abby was quiet, a fact that didn't pass Gibbs' notice, and he frowned as his gut tickled. Abby knew something, he had no doubt about that, but the fact that she wasn't volunteering information was strange. He noticed a muscle twitch in her arm, and glanced down to her hand to see that she was clutching her cell phone in a white knuckled grip.

"Tony, McGee's history," he repeated. "Ziva, witness statements and tapes. Abby, dog. Any spare moment any of you have, find all you can on this _Homo Sapiens Protection Society._"

"Yes, Boss."

"Yes, Gibbs."

"Yes, Gibbs."

The two agents and the lab bat turned to leave, each glancing at their unconscious partner in the bed before exiting the room. Abby hesitated slightly, staring at Tim with an unreadable expression on her face, and Gibbs took the opportunity presented to him.

"Abbs. A word please," he asked quietly. Abby flinched and turned, trying desperately to keep her face blank, but failing miserably. She simply stood in front of him, looking for all the world like a little girl in the principal's office.

"Abby, what do you know about this _Homo Sapiens Protection Society_?" He asked, carefully watching her face to study her reaction. He wasn't disappointed when Abby's eyes flickered to McGee and back to him, panic swirling in the bright green color.

However, she simply said, "I can't talk about it, Gibbs."

"Why not?" He growled. Abby opened her mouth to answer, but was interrupted by Gibbs' cell phone ringing. With an aggravated snarl, he turned and answered it, not looking at the caller ID. "Gibbs."

"_She can't talk about it because I made her promise not to, Gibbs," _said Tim McGee's voice.

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note: DUN DUN DUUUUUNNNN! Now things are getting interesting!<strong>


	6. Chapter 6

Greater Good  
>An NCIS Fanfic<br>By CaelumFelis  
>Disclaimer: I don't own NCIS, or anything associated with it.<p>

* * *

><p><em>Bethesda Naval Hospital<br>Bethesda, MD  
>0831 EST<em>

"McGee_?"_

Tim almost laughed at the audible shock in Gibbs' voice, but he didn't have time for frivolities. In the blink of an eye, he called Abby's cell, which she answered immediately.

"_Timmy… are you sure?"_ She asked quietly.

"They've found me, Abbs," Tim said simply. "I can't hide anymore."

"_McGee, what the hell is going on?"_ Gibbs demanded.

"The Homo Sapiens Protection Society is exactly what it sounds like, a secret society sworn to defend the "integrity" of the human race," Tim explained. "They're really no more than a homegrown terrorist group, determined to wipe out anything they consider a threat to the human species, namely metahumans."

"_ENGLISH, MCGEE!"_

"_Metahuman, a human being with some kind of mental or physical power,"_ Abby said simply, her voice flat. _"Basically Gibbs, someone with superpowers."_

"We prefer "abilities"," Tim corrected. "But yes. Metahumans are born like normal people, they don't actually become metas until puberty, as part of the physiological changes that occur in the human body at the time. Less than half a percent of the overall population of the country, and only two percent of the overall population of the world are metas. However, even less than half a percent is too much for the Society. They believe us to be a threat to the genetic integrity of the species… and so they want to eradicate us."

Tim could see Gibbs getting agitated through the hospital room security camera feed he was tapping into, and sighed. The man still didn't get it, not that Tim blamed him. It'd been a lot for him to take in when he first learned about it, and he'd only been a kid at the time.

"I guess I'll just have to show you, then," he said. He locked onto Tony's GPS signal, then leapfrogged from cell tower to cell tower until he picked up his teammate's outgoing transmission. "Tony just called Personnel to request my file, I'm listening to the transmission right now." He dismissed that feed and jumped into the traffic light camera system, using Ziva's GPS signal to pinpoint her location. "Ziva just ran a red light, turning onto Rockville Pike, I've got her on traffic cam." He jumped back out and piggybacked onto the landline system, riding the signals until he got back to NCIS's cluster of signals. He found the security camera system, and in the blink of an eye was looking at a feed into Autopsy. "Jimmy's listening to Black Eyed Peas music videos on YouTube while cleaning Autopsy… and he's dancing to them, which I really wish I hadn't seen. Oh- Ducky just came in and turned it off, thank G-d." He laughed at the shocked expression on the medical examiner's face, visible even from the security cam on the other side of the large suite. He dismissed that feed and found a link to MTAC. It only took him seconds to break through the encryptions surrounding the feed, and sent himself an email reminding him to talk to Vance about updating them. "Director Vance is taking a conference call in MTAC with the directors of the FBI, CIA, and Army CID. Some big case going down…"

"_I think he gets it, Tim,"_ Abby said quietly.

"_How… how are you doing this, McGee?"_ Tim had never heard Gibbs so quiet, and felt kind of proud of being able to shock the man.

"I'm what's been called a "technopath", Boss," Tim said proudly. "I can mentally connect with and control nearly all forms of modern technology. Power grids, land lines, transportation systems, computers, TV, cell phones, PDAs, you name it. I can hack into anything just by thinking about doing it, I can find files that have been wiped clean out of existence. There's no firewall on earth that can hold me, no anti-virus software that can detect me, no encryption that can slow me down for long, provided that I have the time and concentration to break through it."

Tim could see Gibbs pacing through the feed. _"Is this why this… Homo Sapiens Protection Society is after you? Because of this ability that you have?"_

"Pretty much, Boss," Tim said. "Abby, did you call Sarah? Is she safe?"

"_I called her, Timmy," _Abby replied. _"She said she'd call me in a day or two, once she got settled."_

Tim breathed a sigh of relief. He'd hoped that the reason he hadn't found Sarah's cell phone signal was because she'd gone into hiding, but he had to be sure. "Good."

"_Wait, is this Society after Sarah, too?"_ Gibbs demanded. _"Why isn't she under protection?"_

"Boss, the Society has members everywhere," Tim told him. "And I do mean _everywhere._ NCIS alone has at least three hundred that I know of. It's safer to simply disappear, until they've lost our trail. Sarah has friends everywhere, and she knows how to manipulate information almost as well as I do. And if she's in trouble, she knows how to contact me."

Tim watched Gibbs process what he was telling him, and what he wasn't. _"Tim, how long have you two been running from these people?"_

He swallowed. "Twenty years, Boss," he answered, nearly whispering. "They've been after us for twenty years."

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note: I know it's short, but I've been getting so many positive reviews that I just had to get this out! Congrats to all of you who figured it out, but there are still lots of questions to be answered. Stay tuned!<strong>


	7. Chapter 7

Greater Good  
>An NCIS Fanfic<br>By CaelumFelis  
>Disclaimer: I don't own NCIS or anything associated with it.<p>

* * *

><p><em>Navy Yard<br>Washington, DC  
>0847 EST<em>

Tony sighed as he studied the closed and sealed file on his desk. As much as he liked poking into his teammates' private lives, he'd never gone so far as to actually _read_ their personnel files. But now here he was, about to read Tim McGee's NCIS personnel file to try and find out who would want him dead.

"Staring at it is not going to make it disappear, Tony," Ziva said quietly. "Gibbs ordered you to look into McGee's past. You always do what Gibbs tells you, yes?"

"But… this is _Tim_, Zi," Tony said wincing at the slightly desperate edge in his voice. "Mr. "I-don't-kiss-and-tell". McGeek. Elf Lord. The guy who encrypts his work and desk computers so heavily that not even the head of Cybercrimes can crack 'em. He's always begging me to leave his stuff alone, to butt out of his life, but now I'm being ordered to butt _in_. He'll never forgive me for this."

"Tony, Tim will understand," Ziva told him gently. "If he is angry at anyone, it will be at Gibbs. You are simply following orders, Tony. What if someone Tim knew had done this? You could be saving him a second time by finding this person and stopping them from hurting him again."

Tony swallowed, his throat tightening up. The thought of his Probie, his best friend, being attacked a second time made him feel sick, and he knew then that Ziva was right. Tim was in trouble, and the answers were hidden somewhere in the file on Tony's desk, and in every scrap of information he could find about his teammate's history. It was his job to find it, and use it to bring Tim's attackers to justice.

He nodded at Ziva, and gently broke the seals on the file. He opened it to find his partner's staff photo staring back at him, the bright green eyes earnest and excited, his expression firm and determined.

_Damn… he looks so young…_ Tony thought, taking the photo out of the folder and propping it up against his computer monitor next to his Mighty Mouse stapler. He took a deep breath and began to read.

_MIT grad at twenty two, Masters in Computer Forensics at twenty four, degree in biomedical engineering at twenty six, graduated FLECTC top of his class eight months later… jeez, perfectionist much…_

_Hmm… this is weird… only emergency contacts are his sister and Gibbs… where're his parents?_

The personnel file was surprisingly bare of information, really only raising more questions than it answered. Why were Sarah and Gibbs his only emergency contacts? Where was the rest of his family?

He closed the file and set it aside, and turned to his computer. A quick Google search turned up squat as well, until an Alameda newspaper article from 1991 caught his eye.

_NAVAL OFFICER AND WIFE MURDERED ON NAVAL BASE_

_Naval Lieutenant Sean McGee and his wife Anna were murdered early Saturday morning in their base housing unit on the Alameda Naval Air Base… _

…_NIS was called to the scene by fourteen year old Timothy McGee, who found the couple in their bedroom at about seven o'clock, each shot point blank in the chest…_

…_time of death was estimated to be around two thirty in the morning…_

…_message was left on the master bathroom mirror in red spray paint, spouting what appears to be racial hatred against something called "metas"…_

…_Timothy and his three year old sister Sarah are to be placed in foster care pending the conclusion of the investigation…_

…_any information regarding the case is to be sent to NIS Headquarters in Washington, DC._

Tony read the article once, twice, three times, each time feeling like he'd been punched in the gut.

"_Ever tell your dad what you were up to, Probie?"_

_The look on McGee's face is unreadable, but he answers firmly, "Every day."_

"_Wrong person to ask," Tony grumbles._

"Tony, I have something!" Ziva's voice cut through his memories and swirling thoughts, and Tony jumped a mile into the air.

"Wh-What've you got?" He asked, shaking his head and coming over to her desk.

"At 0239 this morning," she began, stopping the tape, "three unidentified men forced their way into Tim's apartment. They were wearing gloves and had covered their shoes, which explains why they did not leave any prints." She fast-forwarded the tape, until the same three men ran out the door, heading for the stairs. One was clutching a baseball bat, another was trying to collapse what looked like a collapsible baton, and the third was wiping a bloody knife on his black windbreaker. "They left at 0308. According to Gibbs, Tim called him about twenty minutes later."

"Tim must've passed out and then come to again," Tony murmured. "But how did he call Gibbs without his cell phone? He doesn't have a landline…"

"What did you find?" Ziva asked.

Tony sighed. "The personnel file was next to useless, except to tell me that Tim didn't have any emergency contacts except for his sister and Gibbs. I found a newspaper article, though… his parents were murdered when he was fourteen, and he and Sarah were put in foster care. I'm going to see if I can get into Social Services' records to try and find them."

Ziva nodded. "I will try and find the identities of these three _ben kalbot_," she growled. "Have you found anything about this Homo Sapiens Protection Society?"

"No, I haven't looked," Tony replied. "The article I found about Tim's parents did mention a message painted on the McGee's bathroom mirror, basically spouting the same crazy bullshit those three guys wrote on Tim's. I'll bet money the cases are connected."

"Then we had better get to work, yes?" Ziva smirked.

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note: Another sort of filler chapter, but a very important one. Now we've got almost all the pieces...<strong>

**In other news, I got my first flame a couple of days ago. It was a rather interesting experience... the flamer only "reviewed" the first chapter, and once I got over my fear of what she was saying, I realized that she wasn't even really saying anything worth serious consideration. It was actually kind of ridiculous- she pointed out all of these really nitpicky little things she thought I'd done "wrong" and even cited episodes that proved I was wrong, and blasted the relationship I gave Gibbs and Tim, calling me "delusional" for even considering the notion that Gibbs would be as protective of McGee as he is of Tony and Abby. Needless to say, this flame has been neutralized by Gibbs' icy blue stare. ; P**

**I realize that people are entitled to their own opinions, but it's called "fan fiction" for a reason, folks. It's _fiction._ It's not bloody real. I do my best to stay in canon and to try and avoid having the characters go OOC, but I am entitled to some creative license. I don't have the time, energy, or inclination to make everything absolutely perfect, and I don't see why I should. Mistakes I will correct when someone points them out in a civil, nonconfrontational manner. However, blasting me in the face with inconsequential trivia that has little to nothing to do to the actual _story _that I'm trying to tell and calling me names for writing what I believe will make the story interesting and exciting for _me _will do little more than make me mad. Don't like it, don't read it. It's just _that _simple.**

**Okay, rant over. For all of you who wrote positive or at least constructively critical reviews, thank you very much, they're all very, very much appreciated! To the flamer and everyone like her: You don't scare me anymore. I'm still writing, and I will _keep_ writing, and if I ever see something like that again, I will report you for abuse. No one is forcing you to read my work, and I will not be scared out of doing something I love and feel that I'm good at just to satisfy your selfish need to feel powerful. **


	8. Chapter 8

Greater Good  
>An NCIS Fanfic<br>By CaelumFelis  
>Disclaimer: I don't own NCIS or anything associated with it.<p>

* * *

><p><em>Bethesda Naval Hospital<br>Bethesda, MD  
>1018 EST<em>

Gibbs didn't realize that Tim was awake until a weak groan filled the air. Nearly dropping his fourth coffee of the morning in surprise, he leaned carefully over his youngest agent, hoping against hope that he wasn't waking up due to an injury the doctors hadn't found.

"Damn… bastards…" Tim growled weakly, blinking blearily up at Gibbs, who smirked as he watched the geek process his surroundings at the pace of a snail. Tim's eyes widened when he realized that his boss was leaning over him and had heard him curse.

"Sorry, Boss… didn't mean… you," he hurried to explain, at about half his normal speed. Gibbs chuckled and very gently tapped the back of his head with two fingers.

"Stop apologizing, son, sign of weakness," he said. "You're still supposed to be dead to the world anyway, what the hell are you doing waking up now? Docs said they gave you enough morphine to keep you under until tomorrow morning, at least."

"Slightly faster… metabolism than… the average human," Tim replied, his voice getting stronger with each word. "That and I… tend to heal fast. Any word from… Sarah?"

"Not yet, but you said it was gonna be a day or two," Gibbs said, frowning.

"Yeah, I did… old habits, Boss," Tim shrugged. "Not used to being… separated like this. Always used to take off… together, if we had to. Less conspicuous that way… and safer, if something happens. My abilities aren't very good for… self defense, but Sarah's are. In fact, Sarah's probably… a lot better off without me… she's not dependent on technology for her abilities… like I am, and she's not as high on the Society's hit list as I am."

Gibbs frowned quizzically at Tim. "Whaddya mean, she's not as high on their hit list? I thought they wanted to wipe out all metas."

"They do," Tim said, "but I'm their number one priority... their "public enemy number one" if you would. The way the world is developing, has developed... in the last thirty years, the potential for damage that my abilities have... grows exponentially with each passing day."

Gibbs didn't know what the hell his agent was talking about, and it must've shown on his face, because Tim sighed and, without any apparent movement or thought, raised the head of his hospital bed so that he was sitting up thirty degrees.

"Boss, how many times a day do you use your cell phone, or computer?" He asked solemnly. "How many times have we tracked a suspect using GPS or triangulating cell phone signals? How many buildings can you think of off the top of your head that use computerized security systems? How would you react if you were told that there was one person in the entire world who could manipulate and control all of these systems and more with little to no physical effort and at the speed of just a thought? This person has the ability to mentally jump straight into the internet and access any random person's email at any time, and the expertise and experience to break encryptions in minutes that would take a normal, run of the mill hacker hours to get through. How would you react if you were told that this person was living in the capital of one of the most powerful nations in the world, with no apparent supervision, with access to some of the most sensitive information on the planet?"

At the beginning of Tim's lecture, Gibbs had frowned in irritation and opened his mouth to ask what the hell they did at work every day had to do with why this group of nutjobs wanted him dead. But as his youngest spoke, the words and the tone were such that Gibbs couldn't help but ponder the question his agent had asked him.

His first inclination was to hunt the bastard down and shoot him, but almost as soon as he'd thought it, he remembered that Tim was talking about _himself_, and his shock must've shown on his face, because Tim nodded gravely.

"It's human nature to perceive everything we don't know as a threat to our safety," he said quietly. "I gave you the bare facts about this person, this "superhacker". I want the honest truth, Boss. How would you react?"

Feeling like the lowest snake to crawl through the mud, Gibbs said simply, "I'd want to shoot the bastard."

"And you're not the only one," Tim replied, smiling wryly. "The difference, Boss, is that you _know_ me. You know the kind of person I am, and you know how I feel about hacking for criminal purposes. The Society, for all their stalking, doesn't know me as a person, and what's worse, they don't _care._ All they see is a potential weapon of mass destruction that could bring down the entire world's electrical communication systems with less effort than it would take you to feel the heat of your coffee through the cup."

Gibbs was quiet for a while, his thoughts tumbling over and over themselves as he considered what Tim had told him, until something occurred to him. "Is that why you never told the team about your abilities? Or me? Did you think that we would react that way?"

Tim sighed and turned his gaze to study the blanket. "I told Abby… she kind of forced me to, after she had to wake me up from a flashback and I blew up her laptop. But you, Tony, Ziva… couldn't tell Ziva, couldn't have her reporting back to her father that NCIS has a technopath in their employ, because that would just be _asking_ to be whisked off to a lab, and I never expected her to stick around as long as she has, much less immigrate. Tony would've made my life even more miserable than it already was… which is saying something. I didn't know what side Ducky was on, or Jimmy, or any of the directors. And I couldn't take the chance that you'd shoot me where I stood, or worse, fire me and kick me out into the street." He closed his eyes briefly, and Gibbs could see, under the bruises and the cuts and the welts, just how exhausted Tim was, both mentally and physically. The past month had been hard on him, in more ways than one, and the team leader head-slapped himself for not taking Tim home himself last night, to his place where he _knew_ that the kid would be safe and able to really rest.

A knock sounded on the door, and before Gibbs could react, the door opened to reveal an annoyingly perky nurse who hummed tunelessly as she practically skipped into the room.

"Hello!" She said brightly, flashing a blindingly white smile at Gibbs, who grunted in return, eyeing the girl suspiciously. His gut was tingling- there was something off about that nurse, she seemed far too happy in her profession. He was oddly satisfied when she turned to Tim and nearly screamed when she saw he was awake.

"Good morning," Tim said amicably, glancing at Gibbs with a raised eyebrow.

"Good-good morning," the nurse squeaked. "I didn't expect you to be awake so soon… um… how are you feeling? On a scale of one to ten?"

"Oh, about a six or seven, I suppose," Tim said carefully, "kinda stiff and sore, but not too bad. My chest's a nine though- burns like crazy."

The nurse smiled again, and Gibbs felt his skin crawl. "Oh, you poor dear," she clucked. "Well, we'll fix that right away, don't you worry." She took a small glass bottle and a large syringe out of her scrubs pocket, and pierced the bottle's seal with the needle. Gibbs watched in shock as she filled the entire syringe with the liquid, and his gut screamed at him. Before he even realized what he was doing, he was out of his chair by Tim's bedside and tackling the girl to the floor, wrestling the bottle and syringe out of her hand. Handcuffing her to the foot of Tim's bed, he read the label on the bottle, then looked at the syringe, and felt his heart stop.

"Tim, what would twenty five milliliters of OxyContin do to you?" He asked quietly.

Tim's eyes glittered oddly as his expression grew distant. "That's over three times the amount needed for a lethal dose," he replied mechanically, as though reading from text only he could see. "It would've caused circulatory collapse, respirational collapse, and death, all within an hour or two of administration." He blinked, and looked at Gibbs, wide-eyed and trembling. "Good catch, Boss."

"Nurse-" Gibbs glanced at her ID badge "-Veronica, you're under arrest for the attempted murder of a federal agent. You have the right to remain silent-"

"Are you _kidding me?_" Until now, Veronica hadn't said a word or made a single sound, even during the struggle with Gibbs over the medicine. Her tone now was impetuous, disbelieving. "I'm doing humanity a _favor_, and I'm getting _arrested?_ It's a _meta_, it has to die! It can't survive to keep poisoning the rest of our race! It has to die!"

Gibbs kept reciting her Miranda rights, despite the fact that he wanted so dearly to kill her where she sat as she ranted on about the dangers Tim posed to the rest of the species. When he was done, he took out his cell and called Tony.

"_DiNozzo."_

"Got a suspect for you," Gibbs growled. "Bring Ziva with you, she's a handful."

"_Wow, already? We've only just started ID'ing them… wait, did you say _she?"

"Got a problem, DiNozzo?" He didn't like the surprise in Tony's voice one bit, and it came out in his.

"_Not a problem, Boss, it's just that… we've got three suspects from the surveillance tapes of McGee's apartment… and they're all male,"_ Tony rambled.

"Well, you've got a fourth that just happens to be female!" Gibbs snarled. "Now you two get your asses over here and pick her up before I lose my temper and shoot her myself!"

"Rightawayboss!" Tony yelped. _"We're on our w-"_

Gibbs snapped the phone shut and scowled at Nurse Veronica, who was still ranting. A thought occurred to him, and he glanced at Tim, who was obviously trying very hard _not_ to listen to the insane woman. "Hey McGee, what can you dig up on this dirtbag?" He asked casually, just as though they were in the bullpen at the Yard.

Tim's eyes once again glittered oddly, the green color appearing to grow more intense as his expression grew distant. "Private First Class Veronica Hoffman, twenty six years old, from Wichita, Kansas. Enrolled in Navy ROTC for nursing at the University of Kansas, was stationed here at Bethesda two years ago. Service record is spotless, no criminal record. Parents are farmers back in Kansas, no criminal record for either of them." Tim's face scrunched into his "what-the-hell-am-I-looking-at" expression as his eyes flashed. "She posts on a ton of comic book forums under the handle _SRKelly'sGirl2K_, pretty much the same stuff you're hearing right now, only directed at comic book superheroes, mostly _X-Men_."

Gibbs cocked an eyebrow. He knew next to nothing about this kind of stuff, that was more Tim's department, but he supposed it was rather the same thing as a Tea Partier spouting off at the National Democratic Convention. He voiced this thought to Tim, who nodded.

"Yeah, she got banned from a good number of those sites," he confirmed. "She's still posting, but her posts are getting fewer and farther between… hello, what's this?"

"What's what?" Gibbs stood up and took a step towards his agent before remembering that they _weren't_ in the bullpen and Tim _wasn't_ using a computer.

"Website… very, very, _very_ heavily encrypted… like… _NSA_ level of encryption… _holy shit…_ what the hell is this?..."

"Talk to me, McGee!" Gibbs barked, growing increasingly alarmed. He'd very rarely heard the usually mild-mannered geek curse, and the now blazing bright green eyes were beginning to seriously freak him out.

Tim scrunched his face up, looking pained. Just as Gibbs was about to grab the kid by the shoulders and shake him, the technopath's eyes flew open and he sat straight up in bed, his face sheet-white and his eyes wide, but thankfully back to normal. He was gasping for breath, his chest heaving, and was nearly drenched in cold sweat.

"McGee? Tim? You okay?" Gibbs gently squeezed Tim's shoulder, hyperaware of the still-healing bruises and welts on his youngest agent's skin. Tim groaned in pain, doubling over as his hands hovered just above his chest.

"Better… better than okay… Boss," Tim wheezed. "I think… I think I just found… the Society's webpage…"

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note: ... hmmm... hinky. ;P<strong>

**A slightly meatier chapter for y'all as a reward for all of your amazing reviews and support! I can't tell you all how much your reviews meant to me, especially after that flame... each and every one of them felt like a great big Abby-hug! Shout outs and Abby-hugs to everyone!**

**Until next time! **


	9. Chapter 9

Greater Good  
>An NCIS Fanfic<br>By CaelumFelis  
>Disclaimer: I don't own NCIS or anything associated with it.<p>

* * *

><p><em>Navy Yard<br>Washington, DC  
>1043 EST<em>

Ducky was keeping Abigail company in her lab when his cell phone rang. She giggled at the tinny bagpipe music, while he fumbled in his pockets for the infernal little machine.

"Dr. Mallard, Medical Exam-"

"_Duck, need you up in the bullpen, bring Abby with you,"_ Jethro interrupted. _"I need you to check McGee over."_

"Yes of course, I'll be right up-McGee? _Timothy?_ Jethro, what on earth is Timothy doing here, he should still be in hospital, for G-d's sake, he should still be _unconscious!"_ Ducky couldn't believe his ears. The last he'd seen of young Timothy, the boy had been out cold in a hospital bed, bandages wrapped around his chest, bruises covering every visible inch of his pale skin.

"_Hospital's not safe for him anymore,"_ Jethro replied tersely. _"I'll explain later, Ducky, just get up here."_

Ducky sighed. "Very well, Jethro, I'll be right up " _click._ Jethro hung up in his usual abrupt manner, and the old medical examiner chuckled before closing his own phone and slipping it back into his pocket.

"Come, my dear, Jethro has requested our presence up in the bullpen," Ducky said, offering Abigail his arm.

"Ducky, what's this about McGee being here instead of at the hospital?" Abigail asked as they went out into the hallway to call the lift.

"Apparently Jethro does not consider the hospital safe for our Timothy any longer," Ducky replied as the lift doors opened. He ushered Abigail inside and pressed the button for the third floor, where the bullpen was located.

They rode up in silence, Abigail nearly vibrating with nervous energy. Ducky smiled to himself, he loved Abigail like a niece, but sometimes she made him tired simply by _looking_ at her.

The lift doors opened, and Abigail was off like a shot. Ducky followed at a more sedate pace in order to observe Timothy and the rest of his team from a distance.

The first thing he noticed was Jethro, hovering in the background like an overprotective father, his expression worried, angry, tired, and fearful, a combination of emotions rarely seen in the man. Next, he noticed Anthony and Ziva, both perched on the edge of Timothy's desk like sentinels, both fiercely protective and loyal, but Ducky could see the underlying fear they held for their teammate's safety. The third thing he noticed was Abigail, practically wrapped around her best friend, her face buried in his shoulder.

The last thing he noticed was Timothy himself, pale, shaken, and still bruised, but on the whole a bit healthier looking than Ducky had last seen him. The sheepish smile he received as he came into Timothy's view was normal, at least, if a tiny bit forced.

"Timothy, my boy, I must say I didn't quite expect you up and about quite so soon," Ducky said, keeping his tone jovial and his disapproval of the situation buried. He would lecture Jethro later. "How are you feeling, young man?"

Timothy carefully extricated Abigail from around his person, and gingerly sat up taller in his computer chair. "Tired, sore, and my chest hurts, but otherwise I'm fine," he answered, the sheepish grin growing as the lad attempted to prove his words true. Ducky snorted and shooed the rest of the team away, so that he could thoroughly examine Timothy.

"DiNozzo, David, with me," Jethro ordered. "Abby, back to the lab. Duck, stick with him until we get back."

"Understood, Jethro," Ducky replied absently, checking Timothy's blood pressure while the boy looked on bemusedly. "Wipe that smirk off your face, Timothy, I am heartily annoyed with you."

"I'm sorry, Ducky," Timothy replied sincerely, "but Gibbs insisted. Besides, I'm not that hurt anymore. Still kinda stiff, but that's just because I haven't been allowed to move around a lot. Something about ripping out my stitches."

"I should think so, young man," Ducky scoffed. "Now, would you mind telling me the reason Jethro was so insistent that you sign out AMA?"

"Well, it could have something to do with the nurse that tried to kill me."

Ducky was so shocked he dropped the thermometer he was holding. "I beg your pardon, Timothy?"

The shrug Ducky received was infuriatingly nonchalant, and did nothing to alleviate Ducky's confusion and shock. "Timothy…"

"I'm a metahuman, Ducky."

The statement came so suddenly and so fast that Ducky wondered for a moment if he'd heard correctly. He attempted to get a look at the boy's face, but Timothy had turned away from him, refusing to look at him. Timothy was _afraid_ of him.

"Ducky, _say_ something."

Ducky blinked. "Well, dear boy, I can't quite… think of anything to say," he replied. "This is… quite outside the realm of my experience. I confess a complete ignorance of this subject. Care to enlighten me, young Timothy?"

The shocked green eyes grew impossibly wide as Timothy spun around to face him, and Ducky almost laughed at his expression. "You… you're not mad?" He asked, his tone plaintive, almost childlike.

"Timothy, why on earth would I be mad?" Ducky asked, frowning. "I don't know anything about metahumans. I don't have any right to be angry. Now, if you would be so kind, Timothy, I would greatly appreciate learning more about them, and you."

Timothy gave him a wobbly, hesitant smile, and reached over to turn his computer monitor towards the medical examiner. "I'm a technopath, I can control any kind of technology with my mind."

Ducky watched, fascinated, as Timothy took the computer through his morning routine (email, systems check, and a whole manner of other things that Ducky couldn't even begin to understand) without touching the machine at all. At one point, the old ME tore his gaze away from the monitor and studied Timothy's face. The boy's expression was distant, but his eyes… the green irises were oddly bright, almost glowing, and Ducky found that he couldn't look away.

Suddenly, Timothy blinked and bashfully smiled at him. "Sarah always teases me about how freaky my eyes looked whenever I was surfing, but she doesn't really have much room to talk," he said quietly. "Her eyes turn yellow, like a cat's."

Ducky chuckled. "Well, dear boy, this certainly has been enlightening. How long have you had this ability?"

"Since I was almost thirteen," Timothy replied. "I'd been hacking for a few years before that, ever since I got my first computer when I was ten. I woke up one morning and discovered that I'd been reprogramming my computer from my bed on the other side of the room in my sleep."

Ducky chuckled. "I'm sure your parents were quite amused," he said, then frowned at the closed off expression on Timothy's face. "You did tell them about your ability, didn't you, Timothy?"

Timothy didn't answer, turning instead to his computer. "When I was going through the nurse's history, I found a link that took me to a heavily encrypted website," he said, his tone cold, his eyes glowing. Programming script raced across the computer monitor faster than Ducky could keep up. "I couldn't break through the encryptions by myself, they're too strong, and I don't have enough processing power on my own. I might be able to do it here…"

Ducky sat quietly and watched as Timothy appeared to go into some sort of trance, staring off into space as his eyes glowed brightly, darting from left to right as though he were reading something only he could see. His fingers twitched slightly as his hands rested on the desk in front of him.

"Go ahead, Ducky."

It took Ducky a few moments to realize that it was Timothy who had spoken, who was smirking lightly at him, an expression made rather eerie by the brightness of his eyes. "I beg your pardon, lad?"

"Ducky, you're sitting here twitching worse than a cat in a bath," Timothy chuckled. "It's kind of distracting. I know you're dying to check me out while I'm surfing, and it's better that you do it now while I'm distracted with a real problem instead of later when I'm surfing just to surf. Go ahead."

Ducky needed no other prompting, and raced back to Autopsy to gather some testing materials, nearly giddy with excitement. He gathered the things he needed and hurried back upstairs. He'd just turned the corner to enter the bullpen when he spied Timothy standing behind his desk, glaring at three agents in front of him.

"-should've known you were one of _them_," Timothy growled. "You never could get over the fact that I was brought back to field agent status and you got kicked back to the sub basement, Keating."

"You never should've been hired in the first place, McGee, much less promoted to field agent," Agent Keating snarled back. "You should've been put down ages ago like the metahuman scum you are, before you could corrupt our systems and propel yourself forward."

The bitter, barking laugh Timothy let out sent chills up Ducky's spine. "Propel _myself_ forward? I wasn't the one who hacked his personnel file and ramped up his credentials, Keating. That's _so_ grade school. You're lucky you didn't get killed when you were on Gibbs' team."

"You would've loved that, McGee, wouldn't you?" Keating growled.

"Keating, I really couldn't have cared less," Timothy sighed in annoyance. "I had too much on my plate at that point to waste my time being jealous of you. Besides, you were practically _begging_ to be sent back to your little hole, if I recall. You couldn't handle being in the field then, what on earth makes you think you can handle it now?"

Instead of answering, Keating snarled at the other two agents. "Hold him!" He ordered. Ducky gasped as they each grabbed one of Timothy's arms, holding him firmly in place as Keating advanced on him, pulling back his fist. Timothy's glare never wavered as the fist made contact with his cheekbone, the crack of the bone snapping echoing around the bullpen.

Ducky couldn't believe what he was seeing. These were bloody _NCIS agents_ attacking one of their own. He'd known that there had been no love lost between Timothy and Agent Keating, but he hadn't been aware of the strange _hate_ that the other man seemed to have for Timothy.

Timothy spat blood in Keating's face. "My sister hits harder than you," he taunted.

Keating smirked darkly. "Ah yes, the lovely Sarah McGee. Tell me, how long do you think your sister's little forest friends are going to be able to keep her hidden away? There are so few wild places left in the country… it would be a shame for her to find herself on the receiving end of some backwoods hunter's rifle."

Timothy roared in rage and lunged at Keating, but the two agents holding his arms forced him quite roughly back. Keating pulled back his fist again.

"_THAT IS ENOUGH!"_ Ducky bellowed, striding into the bullpen. All four agents stared at him dumbfounded, Keating and his cronies with some degree of apprehension, and Timothy with blatant shock.

"Stay out of this, old man," Keating growled.

"I think not, Agent Keating," Ducky snapped. "You are aware that it is a felony to assault a federal agent? Release Agent McGee immediately!"

"Ducky, get out of here," Timothy pleaded. "There's nothing you can do, just leave."

Ducky began to reply, to tell Timothy to stuff it and call Jethro, but something hard and heavy struck him on the back of the head, and as darkness fell and he felt himself pitch forward, he heard Timothy shout "NO!" and thought, _I'm so sorry, lad._

And then he thought no more.

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note: Sorry this took so long, this chapter liked to ramble, much like Ducky himself. ; )<strong>

**As for the Keating-bashing... I'm sorry, I never liked any of Gibbs' B-team, but Keating just really rubbed me the wrong way. How he managed to become a field agent is beyond me. If he's anywhere around Tim's age, he'd already spent far too much time in the sub-basement to really be able to adapt well to fieldwork when Vance put him with Gibbs'. Besides, I needed a Society member in NCIS, and Keating seemed like the perfect candidate because he was Tim's "replacement", and after a promotion like that, I'm sure it stung like hell to be kicked back to Cybercrimes, so he's already got a beef with Tim. I just made him a lot more evil. **evil chuckle****

**The next chapter is the last one part of the "beginning" section of this story, and then we'll really get into the thick of things. Stay tuned!**

**PS: To the reviewer who asked why I spell G-d the way I do, the long answer is that in Judaism, the name of G-d is sacred, and if you write it on anything (and I do mean anything), that object cannot be destroyed by burning or throwing it away, because you're then figuratively destroying G-d. This is why Torah scrolls and Hebrew bibles are buried in a special section of a Jewish cemetery when they get too old to be used, instead of simply trashed or burned, because they are still sacred documents that deserve respect. By not writing the word G-d out completely, you're not actually writing the name, and therefore whatever you're writing on can be destroyed like any other piece of paper. I take it a step further by not spelling it out at all, in anything that I write, that way I can delete a file (pretty much destroying it) without taking out my entire memory drive and burying it. I'm not a religious person by any stretch of the imagination, but this tradition is something that spoke to me as a writer, and so I chose to uphold it.**

**The short answer is that it's a habit I've gotten into and see no reason to break. ; ) **

**I would've replied to the question in a PM, but for some reason the reviewer disabled PMs on her account, and so I have no choice but to answer it in an author's note. Hope this answers your question, reviewer! And to everyone else who reads this, I hope you learned something new today!**


	10. Chapter 10

Greater Good  
>An NCIS Fanfic<br>By CaelumFelis  
>Disclaimer: I don't own NCIS or anything associated with it.<p>

* * *

><p><em>Navy Yard<br>Washington, DC  
>1045 EST<em>

Tony hadn't known what to think when he saw Gibbs stride into the bullpen with a dramatically healthier looking McGee right on his tail. The kid had still looked rougher than Tony had ever seen him, but the fact that he was conscious and walking and talking had been mind boggling.

Gibbs had ordered McGee to his desk and immediately called Ducky, while Tony and Ziva had attempted to grill the Probie to find out how he'd been released so quickly. Their questions had been halted by the arrival of Abby, who pounced on McGee like a fruit bat on a mango, and Ducky, who had shooed all of them away so he could look Tim over in peace. Gibbs had ordered Abby back to the lab, Ducky to stay with McHighlander, and the other two agents to follow him.

And now Tony was standing in the stopped, darkened elevator, gaping at his boss and trying to figure out exactly when Gibbs had lost his mind. Because there was no way on G-d's green earth that his no-nonsense, Marine tough boss had just said what he thought he'd said.

"McGee's a-a _metahuman?_ Like from _Smallville?_ He told you this? And you believed him? You sure he's not just concussed?"

The glare Tony received was withering, and the lack of a headslap was even worse. "He called my cell phone, _while _he was still unconscious, Tony," he growled. "While he was on the phone with me, _still unconscious_, he tapped into your cell phone transmission requesting his personnel file." He turned to Ziva, his scowl softening into an amused smirk. "He caught you running a red light turning onto Rockville Pike on a traffic camera. He found Palmer dancing in Autopsy on the security camera, and he even hacked into MTAC and listened in on a joint op with the FBI, CIA, and Army CID. All while he was unconscious in a hospital bed."

Tony blinked. If his ears weren't deceiving him, Gibbs actually sounded… impressed. Proud, even. Tony wondered what the big deal was it sounded like Tim was getting his geek on exactly like he did normally, just… using his mind instead of a computer. While knocked out cold.

Okay, so that was kind of cool. Like a human version of HAL 9000, or even ARIIA from _Eagle Eye._ Tony supposed he could live with that.

"This is all really cool, Boss, but what does it have to do with why McHacker is here instead of the hospital?" He asked.

Gibbs' glare was back, but different this time-he wasn't pissed at any of them, but at someone else who wasn't in the immediate vicinity.

"A nurse tried to give him an overdose of OxyContin," he growled. "Twenty-five milliliters, enough to kill him within an hour or two of injection."

"_Dannezione!"_ Tony shouted, while Ziva snarled, _"Zeh kalbah!"_

"_HEY!"_ Gibbs headslapped them both. "Calm down! He's fine, she didn't get anywhere near him."

"This is getting ridiculous," Tony muttered. "First a trio of unknown, random guys, now an unknown, random nurse in a hospital. Boss, what the hell is going on? Why are all these complete strangers coming after him? Why the hell _now?"_ He tried to keep himself from sounding like a terrified kid, but didn't quite succeed. The idea that Tim, his Probie, the little brother he'd always wanted but had never gotten, wasn't safe even in a _Navy_ hospital scared him to death.

"This last case, Tim dug up the vast majority of the evidence, right?" Gibbs said. "He told me on the way here that there were times when he could barely lift either of his hands, much less press a key, so he was forced to use his ability to keep working while his body rested. He figures that a member of the Homo Sapiens Protection Society who works at NCIS must've seen him and put two and two together."

"So the three men and this nurse must all be members of this _society_," Ziva reasoned. "Abby has not been able to get anything off of the security cameras from Tim's apartment. These men knew where all the cameras were and acted accordingly."

"We still haven't gotten Tim's statement yet," Tony put in, trying to fight through the feeling of information overload that was clogging his brain. "He could've recognized the guys who attacked him, if they work here."

Gibbs opened his mouth to reply, but was interrupted by his cell phone ringing. "Gibbs," he growled, then his frown deepened. He pulled the phone away from his ear, and stared confusedly at it.

"What's up, Boss?" Tony asked, trying not to laugh at the befuddled look on Gibbs' face.

"Text message," Gibbs grunted, "Can't understand a word of it. Think it's from Tim."

"Boss," Tony said simply, holding out his hand. He wasn't fluent in "text speak" by any stretch of the imagination, that was McGeek's department, but he knew enough to puzzle out a message. Gibbs handed him the phone.

_Was atckd in bllpn. Kting & 2 othrs. Ducky KOd. En rte 2 unown lctn. Trk Kting. Society._

Tony's throat went dry. "It says… it says he was attacked… in the bullpen. Keating from Cybercrimes and two others. Ducky's knocked out. He's being taken to an unknown location, and he wants us to track Keating." He met Gibbs' eyes, and saw the raw fury the man was barely containing. "Keating's a member of the Society."

"I would not be at all surprised if Keating and these "two others" are the men in the security footage from Tim's apartment," Ziva growled.

Gibbs hit the switch, and the elevator lurched into motion. "DiNozzo, with me, Ziva, grab Palmer and go take care of Ducky. You secure the scene, have Palmer bring him back to Abby's lab." The elevator opened on Abby's floor, and Ziva ducked out and took off sprinting down the hallway to the stairs. Gibbs practically ran into Abby's lab with Tony hot on his heels, startling the Goth.

"Gibbs, what's the big rush?" Abby demanded.

"We need you to track Daniel Keating's phone," Gibbs said. "Now, Abby."

"What's going on?" Abby asked again, starting the trace.

"Keating's a member of the Society, Abbs," Gibbs said quietly. "Just got a text from Tim, Keating attacked him in the bullpen and kidnapped him."

Tony watched in horror as Abby went even paler than normal, and her knees buckled. He darted forward and caught her before she hit the ground, and she turned and threw her arms around his neck, sobbing into his chest. "Abby, did you know about Tim's… ability?" He asked gently. "Did you know about the Society? Why didn't you tell me?"

Abby's head nodded against his chest. "He told me," she whispered. "When we were dating. He had a flashback one night he never told me what it was about and he blew up my laptop. Like literally, my laptop on the floor next to my side of the bed exploded. I don't know who was more freaked out, me or Timmy. He looked like he was about to bolt, or pass out, or both, but I sat on him and refused to budge until he told me what was going on. He told me everything, it took half the night, and then he begged me not to tell _anyone._ He begged me, Tony, he begged me to swear on my faith in forensics that I wouldn't tell another soul. That's why I couldn't tell you earlier. I couldn't break my promise to Timmy, I just couldn't."

Tony's heart wrenched. "I understand, Abs," he whispered. "Thank you for listening to him, and keeping your promise."

The computer beeped, and Tony patted Abby on the back and gently untangled her from around his neck. He gently turned her around and gave her a gentle push forward, whispering in her ear, "He needs you now, Abs. Go find him, get him back for us."

Abby pounced on the keyboard and in seconds had the location Keating's cell phone up on her big screen. "Got him! He's crossing the Eleventh St. Bridge right now, and moving fast."

"Good work, Abs, stay on him!" Gibbs ordered, kissing her cheek. "DiNozzo! Let's go! Call Ziva, tell her to meet us at the sedan."

Tony gave Abby a quick hug and raced after Gibbs, hitting Ziva's speed dial as he ran.

"_David."_

"Ziva, down to the motor pool, stat! Abby's got a location on Keating!" He shouted.

"_I will meet you there,"_ she replied immediately. _"Ducky is awake and furious, and there does not seem to be much of a crime scene."_

"Understood," Tony replied, more focused on keeping up with Gibbs than what his partner was saying. "See you in a few."

Tony hung up and focused on movement. In minutes, they were at the motor pool, Ziva leaning against their usual charcoal colored Dodge Challenger.

"Ziva, you drive, Eleventh St. Bridge," Gibbs ordered, taking shotgun. Tony automatically jumped into the back, too focused on getting Tim back to worry about Ziva's crazy driving.

It wasn't until they were nearing the bridge that Tony voiced a question that had been bothering him since he'd heard about the attack at Bethesda. "Boss, this society… Abby turned dead white when I showed her their message to Tim. If Keating is one of them… what would he do to Tim?"

Ziva didn't react to the question, but Tony knew she was listening. Gibbs sighed. "According to Tim, the Society exists for the sole purpose of killing any metahuman they come across," he explained. Tony fought not to throw up as Gibbs outlined the Society's sick plot, their insane belief that people like Tim were a blight on the human race and had to be destroyed… the fact that if Keating had followed the pattern of attacks against Tim that had been established, Tim would already, _should_ already, be dead.

"So, if Keating had been like every other psycho that's come after Tim in the last twelve hours, he would've just murdered him in the middle of the bullpen in the middle of a federal agency, and gotten away scot-free?" Tony asked incredulously.

Gibbs' cell phone rang, cutting off the team leader's answer. The car was deadly silent as Gibbs picked up.

"Gibbs."

There was a burst of noise from the other end, and Gibbs jerked and held the phone out away from his ear. Tony could just hear Abby's voice shrieking shrilly, and winced. Whatever the lab bat had to say, it couldn't be good news.

"ABBY!" Gibbs barked, silencing the shrill voice. "Calm down, and tell me what's wrong."

A pause, and then Gibbs slammed his fist down on the dashboard, startling not only Tony, but Ziva as well.

"G-DDAMNIT!" He roared. "Keep trying, Abby, whatever it takes. Find them!" He snapped the phone shut and threw it down, running a hand through his hair. Tony waited, knowing that Gibbs would fill them in eventually, once he calmed down. He saw Ziva turn and open her mouth to speak, but a swift kick to the back of her seat and a glare gave her other ideas.

"Abby lost the signal," Gibbs said suddenly. "Keating must've turned off his phone."

Tony felt like he'd been punched in the gut. Without that cell phone signal or a helpful message from Tim, they didn't know where Tim was. They didn't know who Keating's accomplices were, so they couldn't track their phones. They had no leads.

No leads, and Tim was running out of time.

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note: Ooooh, I'm so evil. Must be the sniffles I'm battling. Illness always puts me in a bad mood. Next chapter up soon!<strong>


	11. Chapter 11

Greater Good  
>An NCIS Fanfic<br>By CaelumFelis  
>Disclaimer: I don't own NCIS or anything associated with it.<p>

* * *

><p><em>Somewhere Just North of Seneca Rocks<br>West Virginia  
>1325 EST<em>

Sarah McGee panted as she hefted her backpack higher on her back and kept hiking. Tim's Porshe, which she had taken from his apartment, was carefully hidden in the underbrush next to the road.

_**I smell people, Boss.**_

Sarah turned and frowned at the German Shepherd following her. "I'm not your boss, so don't call me that, Jethro," she said. "And yeah, you should be smelling people. We're almost there."

_**Food?**_Jethro's ears perked up hopefully, his tongue lolling out as he panted from exertion. _**I'm hungry.**_

"When are you never hungry? I swear, Tim feeds you more often than he feeds himself… may explain why he's so skinny all of a sudden." Sarah sighed, peering up the path she was following. Anyone else would see simply plants and dirt and trees, but Sarah had been coming here since before she could remember. She could find her way in her sleep.

She could hear the voices before she could see any of them, as the pair crested the hill and looked down into the clearing.

Three people were gathered around a firepit in the middle of the clearing, two boys and a girl, all around Sarah's age. The girl glanced up and grinned, her horn-rimmed square glasses glinting in the bright winter sunlight.

"Sarah!" She shrieked, leaping up and racing up the hill. Sarah planted her feet and braced herself as the girl tackled her in a full body bear hug. "We were so worried! I'm so glad you're all right!"

_**Hey! Let go of my boss's littermate! Crazy two legger person!**_Jethro leaped around, growling anxiously.

"TK, I'm fine," Sarah murmured, giving her "adopted" baby sister a firm squeeze. "Now let me go before Jethro really loses his head."

"Jethro?" TK released her and looked down to see Tim's enormous German Shepherd growling menacingly at her.

_**Attack my pack and die, human!**_Jethro snarled.

"Relax, Jethro, she's my littermate," Sarah said, crouching down and ruffling the thick fur around the dog's neck. Jethro relaxed and tentatively licked her cheek.

_**Sorry,**_ he whined. _**The female startled me. Ever since Boss left me in that awful kennel…**_

Sarah nodded sympathetically. Concerned for both Jethro's safety and his own, he'd checked the dog into a kennel three days ago, and created a virus that would wipe out Jethro's personal information if he wasn't picked up two weeks from that date, essentially putting the former drug dog up for adoption. Tim had told Sarah the last time they'd talked that if anything happened to him, she was to pick Jethro up and head for the cabin. The early morning call from Abby had told Sarah that the time was nigh, and she'd rescued a miserable Jethro from his prison before taking off for West Virginia.

"Tim just wanted you to be safe," she told him quietly, before turning to TK. "This is Tim's dog, Jethro."

TK nodded. "Where is he, by the way?" She asked.

Sarah bit her lip and looked at the ground. "_They_ found him," she said quietly.

TK gasped. "Oh G-d…"

Sarah stood, shouldered her backpack, and led TK and Jethro down into the clearing, where the two boys were still sitting around a fire pit, roasting hot dogs. They each looked up as she came and sat down on one of the logs around the pit, and one of them, short, stocky, and tanned, reached over and wrapped his arm around the girl's shoulders.

"What happened, Sarah?" The other boy, this one tall and willowy, with skin the color of dark chocolate, asked gently. "Where's Tim? Why is Jethro here?"

"_They_ found him, Damian," Sarah replied heavily, tangling her hand in the thick fur around Jethro's neck and leaning into the first boy's embrace. "His ex-girlfriend called me this morning, told me to make myself scarce. I didn't ask any questions, I just picked up Jethro and took off."

"You just _left_ him?" The first boy snarled, his hand tightening painfully on her shoulder.

"Calm down, Jon, she didn't have a choice," Damian scolded. "Tim's tough, but he would've fallen apart if Sarah had stuck around and gotten herself killed. She did the right thing by leaving."

TK had burrowed into Sarah's other side, the seventeen year old refusing to leave her big sister's side. "Is Timmy okay, Sarah?"

"Yeah, Doodlebug, he's okay," Sarah replied, stroking her "adopted" baby sister's hair. "Abby, his ex, said he was able to call for help."

"How do you know we can trust her?" Jon asked.

"You know all the stories Tim tells about work," Sarah said. "Abby's still head over heels for him, even if she doesn't want to admit it, she'll never do anything to betray his trust. And that includes turning his siblings over to the Society."

"What about the rest of his team?" Damian wondered. "If Gibbs is anything like Tim says he is, he's not going to take an attack on his agent just lying down. Can he be trusted not to shoot him if Tim tells him?"

Sarah felt TK stiffen, and looked down to see her baby sister's blue eyes brighten and her expression go distant. The three older kids all exchanged glances and waited for the youngest of their number to rejoin the real world.

After less than a minute, TK blinked, and shook her head slightly to clear it. "The whole team knows," she said. "Timmy's been kidnapped by another agent, they're all going crazy trying to find him. They all know, and they're all terrified for him. This agent isn't following the pattern, he didn't just kill Timmy like he was supposed to, and now they don't know where he is or what's happening to him."

"We need to go," Damian said. "We need to be there. They need our help."

"They're not gonna appreciate us just dropping in on them," Jon warned. "These guys are professional investigators, we're just stupid kids."

"That's our big brother, Jonny!" TK shouted. "We _have_ to be there! What if I have a vision about where he is? They could use that!"

"And she needs us to protect her," Damian added. "I say we go."

"Me too!" TK said.

"What about you, Sarah?" Jon said.

Sarah frowned, and stared at the fire. On the one hand, she was dying to get back to DC and tear it apart looking for her brother. On the other, she knew how dangerous it could be if they all descended on one place. Tim had said that there were at least fifty Society members at NCIS HQ alone, not even counting how many were in the other alphabet soup agencies in the area. They could be signing their own death warrants just by setting foot in the city.

"I'm going to call Agent Gibbs," she decided. "If he can provide a safe place for all of us to stay where the Society won't find us, then we'll go. If not, then we'll stay here, and if TK has any more visions, we'll call Gibbs and tell him about them."

The others nodded, and Sarah took out her cell phone. She'd turned it off after she hung up with Abby, but now she turned it on again, and dialed a number Tim had made all of his siblings memorize after Jeff was killed and she'd been set up to be raped.

"_Gibbs."_

"Agent Gibbs, this is Sarah McGee," she said hesitantly, put off by the harshness of the answering growl.

She heard Gibbs' minute intake of breath, and then he said stiffly, _"Give me five minutes, and then I'll call you back."_

"Um… okay…" She jumped when the gruff agent hung up on her, and looked up to see her siblings staring quizzically at her.

"He said he'd call back in five minutes," she said simply, shrugging.

"This guy sounds even crazier than Jon," Damian said lightly. His coal black eyes flashed silver as Jon aimed a hard, Marine style punch right to the middle of his upper arm. "Ouch. I think you broke something."

"Ass," Jon snorted, subtly shaking out his hand.

Sarah sighed. "Can't you two stop arguing for five minutes?"

"No way," Jon replied.

"What's the fun in that?" Damian asked, smirking.

Sarah's phone vibrated as a call came through, and the boys fell silent as Sarah fumbled to answer it. "Sarah McGee."

"_Sarah, it's Agent Gibbs,"_ Tim's boss replied. _"Thank G-d, we were starting to get worried. Are you all right? Where the hell are you?"_

Taken aback by the uncharacteristic concern in the ex-Marine's voice, Sarah couldn't help but stutter. "I'm f-fine, Agent Gibbs, I'm okay. I can't really tell you where I am, right now, it's a family secret. Have you found Tim yet?"

"_No, not yet," _Gibbs replied. Sarah could tell that he was surprised, but to his credit, he hid it well. _"The agents who took him turned off their phones, and without Tim, our options of tracking them are slim to none."_

If her ears didn't deceive her, Gibbs sounded as tired, worried, and frightened as Sarah felt. "Agent Gibbs, are you in a private place?"

"_Yeah."_

"Did Tim tell you why he was attacked?"

"_Yeah, he's a meta, some kind of technopath."_

Sarah took a deep breath. "Agent Gibbs, what I am about to tell you has never been revealed to anyone outside our family. I need your solemn word that you will not repeat it to _anyone_ without my express permission."

"_I swear on the memory of my wife and daughter."_

The girl gulped. Tim had told them the tragic story of the Gibbs family, and the knowledge that the man had sworn on Shannon and Kelly's memory both reassured her and set her on edge. "I have an adopted sister who can see what is happening in the present in other places. If we come to NCIS to help you find Tim, can you promise that you will protect us to the best of your ability?"

"_Sarah, I swear that we'll do the best we possibly can to protect you and your sister,"_ Gibbs answered softly. _"You two can stay at my house, and I promise that no one will find you there."_

"Us four," she corrected. "We also have two adopted brothers. All of us are metas, and my siblings… don't officially exist. Can they stay too?"

"_Of course," _was Gibbs' immediate answer, and Sarah felt a weight drop off of her soul.

"Thank you, Agent Gibbs," she whispered. "Thank you so much, you don't know how much this means to us-"

"_My agents are like my kids, Sarah,"_ Gibbs cut her off. _"Their families are mine. That includes you, Tim, and your siblings. How soon can we expect you?"_

"About four thirty, closer to five," Sarah replied, glancing at her watch and trying to hold back the tears that threatened.

Gibbs gave her directions to his house in DC, and they hung up. Her siblings watched her expectantly as she turned off her phone.

"Saddle up," she said quietly. "We're going to DC."

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note: And now the action begins... hang on to your hats and glasses, folks. It's gonna be a wild ride!<strong>


	12. Chapter 12

Greater Good  
>An NCIS Fanfic<br>By CaelumFelis  
>Disclaimer: I don't own NCIS or anything associated with it.<p>

* * *

><p><em>Unknown Location<br>Unknown Location  
>Unknown Time<em>

Tim awoke to the worst migraine he'd ever had in his life. His head pounded in four/four time like one of those huge drums one saw in parades that were worn vertically on the chest. On the offbeat, it felt like his brain was being squeezed in a vice grip. Every third beat, a leaky pipe somewhere in the distance dripped, sending a bolt of lightning through his already beleaguered cranium. His one saving grace was that wherever Keating and his two goons dropped him, at least the place was dark.

He waited for what felt like a year for the migraine to subside before he opened his eyes and attempted to lift his head. He seemed to be in some sort of root cellar, the floor beneath him was tightly compacted dirt, with a layer of loose dirt over top. Looking around, he could see the dead roots of various plants poking through the walls. Gingerly rolling over, he stared at the old, rough-hewn planks above him, and wondered if he'd fallen into Dorothy's basement.

As the headache from hell receded into the dark depths of his mind _(huh, alliteration,_ his inner author commented, _nicely done, Gemcity)_, he became aware of a more insistent, throbbing pain in his face, located squarely below his left eye.

_Broken cheekbone_, his mind supplied helpfully.

Wonderful. He gingerly reached up and felt the area as gently as he could, wincing slightly at his frigid fingers. Now that he thought o it, he realized that his entire body was cold. The tiny cellar was frigid, which didn't surprise him in the least, given that it was the dead of winter. He was looking at death from hypothermia if Keating didn't just shoot him first.

_Wow, McGee, you're in a mood,_ his inner voice said, sounding strangely like Abby. _Whatever happened to McOptimist?_

Tim simply growled to himself and very slowly and gingerly worked himself into a sitting position, gasping as fire raced through his ribs. One, maybe two ribs snapped, he figured, at least three cracked. He began the slow, arduous process of moving over to the wall, wincing as his stiff muscles protested the movement. The stitches in his chest itched like mad, and the skin around the cuts burned.

Settling himself against the cold dirt wall, he closed his eyes and centered himself. When he opened his eyes again, he was in his "zone", a little pocket of cyberspace he always ended up in when he wasn't directly controlling a piece of hardware. It was here that he usually found an access point into whatever system he wanted to get into the Internet, the local power grids, traffic and security systems, cell phone networks, or private networks.

The only problem was that his zone, usually full of enough blinking, multicolored lights that it put Time's Square to shame, was surprisingly, depressingly empty. No wireless modems, no cell phone towers, not even a frickin' landline… he was cut off in a way he hadn't been in years, and it freaked him out beyond words.

Growling back his panic, he extended his reach, trying to find something, _anything_, that would tell him where he was, what time it was, and why the hell Keating hadn't killed him yet. There were some faint signals from nearby cell towers, but he had serious reservations about trusting them. He found a wireless card about nine or ten miles east, but it was having difficulties of its own, and he didn't want to add to them. None of his captors had their cell phones on, but even if they had, he doubted they'd be able to get a usable signal. There was a generator, but to his chagrin, all he found connecting to it were a few lamps, an oven with stovetop, a refrigerator, and a boiler. No TVs, no computers, no modems, no Ethernet, not even a radio.

They'd chosen their hideout very well, he had to give them that.

He blinked and came back to the real world, having determined that his ability was next to useless here. He was still dressed in the scrubs that Gibbs had stolen for him when they'd checked him out AMA, which meant that his cell phone, wallet, keys, and weapons were still at his apartment. Now that his eyes had adjusted to the darkness, he glanced around to see if there was anything he could use to defend himself when Keating and the other two bozos came back for their fun. Unfortunately, the cellar was completely empty except for him and the dead roots of dead plants sticking out of the walls.

Great. Just freakin' great.

_Okay Tim, think,_ he commanded himself. _They didn't just stumble upon this place by accident. There's a reason they knew about this little pocket of nowhere. Keating… Keating's the mastermind… this place must have something to do with him._

Tim growled. Without access to the internet, he was as in the dark as any normal kidnapping victim, which meant that he was dependent on his captors for information. He _hated_ not being able to find things out for himself. He'd been hacking since he could type, let alone before he became a technopath. He should've been able to know every single thing about Keating and his goons, but without any internet access, he was completely useless.

Something creaked and groaned in the ceiling across from him, and Tim pressed himself further against the wall as a pair of doors opened. He squinted against the bright afternoon light reflecting against the snow on the ground outside, and he shivered as the biting mountain winter wind flooded the small room.

"Well, well, well, see how the great Special Agent Timothy McGee has fallen," Keating sneered. "Shuddering in terror at my very presence."

"Bite me, Danny-boy," Tim snarled back, forcing himself to stop shivering and glare at the other man. "Gibbs is going to have your head on a pike when he finds us."

"Attitude, Timmy, attitude," Keating chuckled. "Can't have you lose that ridiculously slow temper of yours. It could prove detrimental to your health… or that of your dear little sister."

Tim's mind went blank with rage, and before he knew what was happening, he was rushing at Keating, his hands scrabbling for purchase around the bastard's neck. He'd just gotten his grip when he felt a thunderbolt race through his side, and he felt his hands release as he struggled to breathe through the fire coursing through his torso.

With a flick of his finger against Tim's forehead that was more insult than injury, Keating sent him crashing back down to the floor, gasping for breath and trying his damnedest not to show any weakness that the bastard could use against him.

"Now, Timmy, let's get down to business," Keating said, wiping a large Ka-BAR knife on his pants, his tone condescending, as though he were speaking to a small, stupid child. "I want you to do something for me. I want you to begin identifying every meta in the country, starting with the ones on the Northeast Coast. You have forty-eight hours, and I will provide you access to a secured network."

Tim stared at him. "Forty-eight hours to identify every metahuman on the Northeast Coast? That's impossible!"

Keating kicked him, right in his stab wound, and Tim bit back a scream of pain. "Forty-eight hours, McGee, or your precious little sister is toast."

He turned to go, and Tim laid back, just focusing on breathing.

"Oh, and one more thing," Keating said, turning back and grinning madly at him. "I'll be monitoring your usage of my network, so I'll know if you make any attempt to contact your team, or your sister. One wrong move…" With a final glare, he climbed back up the stairs and slammed the cellar doors shut, leaving Tim in all encompassing darkness.

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note: Hey y'all, sorry this took so long. I got bit by another plot bunny, and took a few days to get it settled with a few carrots before I could concentrate on <em>Greater Good<em> again. However, I am back again, even though this is just a brief little interlude. I wanted to set up a couple of ticking clocks, because if I know me, if I don't have some kind of deadline that I have to meet, this could drag on for ever and ever and ever... and as much as y'all seem to like this story, I know it's gonna get old eventually. **

**So now, Tim has forty-eight hours to identify every meta from Virginia to Maine, and the team has before he bleeds out from that stab wound to find him. Hmmm... I seem to show my love for a character by beating the crap out of him... what does that say about me?**

**Don't answer that. Just review.**

**Thanks!**


	13. Chapter 13

Greater Good  
>An NCIS Fanfic<br>By CaelumFelis  
>Disclaimer: I don't own NCIS or anything related to it.<p>

**Author's Note: So, who loved last week's episode? Being a geek myself, I'm head over heels for McGee, so I was in heaven through the entire episode. However, it did throw a wrench into my idea for this fic, since I was using the excuse that we've never met any of Tim's family except Sarah to create my own backstory for him. As plot-fodder-full as the canon Senior McGee is (he hasn't called his dad in _seven years?_ Plot bunnies galore!), unfortunately, I'm going to have to exclude him and Penny from this fic. Ergo: _Greater Good_ is an AU fic that takes place in the current season. That should clear up any confusion for people who were weirded out by the apparent lack of timeline. And now, on with the show!**

* * *

><p><em>Navy Yard<br>Washington, DC  
>1753 EST<em>

Ziva looked up from the security footage she was watching when she heard the elevator ding. She watched as Gibbs stepped off, leading a small parcel of college age children and a German Shepherd behind him. Ziva realized with a shock that one of the children was Sarah McGee, and the dog was Jethro.

"DiNozzo, David, with me," Gibbs barked.

"On your six, Boss!" Tony replied, leaping out of his seat and nearly vibrating with curiosity at the new arrivals, despite his concern for Tim. Ziva followed silently, studying the children intently. They were an odd group, not one that Ziva would think went together. There was Sarah McGee, looking stylish and well assembled despite the fear and fatigue in her eyes. Then there was a girl quite some years younger, pasted to Sarah's side, looking even younger than Ziva assumed her to be due to her rather eclectic and loose-fitting ensemble, not to mention her mass of curly carrot-orange hair. An extremely tall, dark skinned young man walked behind the two girls, his shoulders hunched down, and his hands stuffed deep into the pockets of his black jeans. A second young man, pale and dark haired and quite obviously the eldest of the group, strode just a step behind Gibbs, as though afraid that the man would disappear if he did not keep up.

Gibbs led them downstairs and into Autopsy, where Ducky was sitting at his desk doing paperwork while Jimmy puttered around, obviously doing chores. The aging medical examiner looked up as they all marched in, a small, surprised smile on his tired face.

"Ah, Jethro," he said quietly, gathering his papers up and stowing them under a folder. "I see we're to have a team meeting. Shall I call Abigail down?"

"Yeah, Duck, I think the kids here might be more comfortable with her around," Gibbs said, nodding. Ducky nodded as well and turned to the small video conference terminal on his desk.

"Abigail, would you please come down to Autopsy? Jethro has called a team meeting," he said, and Ziva bit her lip as she listened to how worried and stressed he sounded. His normal chirpy tone was forced, and every movement spoke of growing fatigue. She also noticed with concern that the duck egg on the back of Ducky's head was showing no sign of decreasing, nor was Ducky himself relaxing as he had told the team to do when they suffered concussions. She directed her fiercest glare at Jimmy, who was currently scrubbing down one of the Autopsy slabs. The Gremlin winced and shrugged, his expression clearly stating, "I did my best, he's just so damn stubborn."

Ziva sighed. Poor Ducky had taken his inability to protect Tim as a personal failing, and was hitting (or was it beating? Ziva was so tired that she could not remember) himself up for it. She was sure that this was one of the reasons the medical examiner had refused treatment for the injury he had sustained when Tim had been kidnapped.

The doors to Autopsy opened, and Abby flew in and attacked Sarah with one of her famous bear hugs.

"Sarah! Oh-my-G-d-I'm-so-happy-you're-safe-I-can't-believe-this-is-happening-you-must-be-so-scared-I-know-I'm-scared-Timmy's-gone-I-can't-find-him-and-I'm-kind-of-freaking-out-right-now-"

"ABBY!" Sarah yelled, her volume and tone putting even Gibbs' drill sergeant roars to shame. "You gotta calm down! You're making my brothers nervous, and they don't really deal well with tension."

Ziva blinked and studied the two boys. They had both tensed when Abby had grabbed Sarah, and the dark-skinned boy's eyes had flashed the color of polished steel as he dropped into a fighting stance unconsciously. The elder boy's eyes flickered red, and his fists clenched and turned red with heat that Ziva could feel from the other side of the room.

Abby looked from one young man to the other with an expression of meek terror. She released Sarah with a whimper and backed up into Tony, who gently grasped her shoulders.

"Boss," Tony said quietly, "what's going on?"

"We're Tim's brothers and sisters, and we're here to help you find him," Sarah answered. "You all know me, but this is Jon, the second oldest after Tim," she gestured to the dark haired boy, who nodded gruffly, "this is Damian, he's my unofficial twin," she gestured to the dark skinned boy, who gave a small, tense smile and waved, "and this is Thalia Kassandra, she's the youngest."

"Call me TK," the redheaded girl said, blue eyes bright behind thick horn-rimmed glasses.

"We've all been abandoned in one form or another, and Tim took us in," Jon said. He took a deep breath and glanced at Sarah, who nodded back. "We're also all metas."

"Wait, all of you are metas?" Tony blurted out.

"Yep," said Damian, smiling wryly. "I'm superstrong and invulnerable. Sarah's a faunapath, she talks to animals. Jon's a firestarter. TK can see the present as it's happening elsewhere. Tim taught us how to control our abilities, and how to use them without drawing attention to ourselves. We owe him our lives, 'cause if he hadn't taken us in, we would've been found and killed by the Society before we hit our eighteenth birthdays."

"He's our Professor X," TK said, smiling at Tony, who grinned back.

"Nice ref, Mini Probie," he said, and Ziva rolled her eyes. "_X-Men_, first a comic book series by Stan Lee, then made into a pretty kickass movie in 2000. Patrick Stewart plays Professor Charles Xavier, who runs a boarding school for mutant kids. Professor X also happens to be one of the most powerful telepaths in the _X-Men_ universe, which kinda fits with McGee, who could probably crash the entire Internet if he wanted to-"

Gibbs reached over and headslapped him, shutting Tony right up and causing Sarah and TK to giggle. Ziva smirked, happy to see smiles on the girls' tired, anxious faces.

"Have you figured out who took Tim?" Sarah asked Gibbs.

"An agent from Cybercrimes named Daniel Keating," Gibbs answered, to Ziva's surprise. She had expected Gibbs to try and keep things vague to preserve the case, but she realized that he was more interested in getting Tim back and in one piece. "He was aided by two agents we still haven't identified… apparently their fingerprints were erased from the NCIS employee database this morning, after the start of the workday. So they checked in at the front gate, and disappeared."

"Shit," Damian said. Jon scowled and headslapped him, but Sarah was nodding in agreement.

"Tim told me that he was getting weird vibes from Keating recently," she said. "A few times in the last few weeks he caught the creep watching him from a distance, and he thought that he'd followed him home a few times."

Jethro barked, and Sarah turned to the dog, her eyes turning yellow as she nodded, listening to something only she could hear. She turned back to address the group, her eyes still yellow and her hand resting on top of Jethro's head.

"Jethro says that the last couple of weeks Tim's been really anxious and worried, locking all the door and all of the windows at night, and only taking him for short walks, just enough to get his business done," she reported. "He says that a few times on their walks, he scented someone unfamiliar that smelled like anger and fear. He smelled the same person around their apartment complex, and near their door. He doesn't know if it's Keating or not, but he's memorized the scent."

"What if it wasn't Keating that was hanging around Tim's place?" Tony said. "What if it was one of the other three?"

"Tim's apartment is still a crime scene," Gibbs said. "Sarah, would Jethro be able to differentiate between scents? If there's one or more scents he doesn't recognize, would he be able to remember and track them?"

"I think so, he _was_ a drug dog," Sarah replied. She turned her yellow eyes to Jethro, who looked steadily back at her. She laughed suddenly, and ruffled the Shepherd's ears. "He says he may be old, but he can still track a scent a hell of a lot better than that Lassie bitch."

Tony, Jimmy, and the boys laughed, TK and Abby snorted, and Ziva smirked. Her smile grew wider when she saw that Gibbs and Ducky were chuckling as well.

"Sarah, you, me, and Jethro are gonna go to Tim's place and see if we can identify the other two suspects," Gibbs said. "TK, you said that you can see things as they happen in other places. What does that mean, exactly?"

"It's probably better if I give you an example," TK said. "About three minutes before Sarah called you, I got a vision about you and the team. You guys were trying your hardest to find Tim, but you were scared, confused, and frustrated because you didn't know enough to help him, you kept running into dead ends, and time was running out. Agent Gibbs, you were standing behind Agent DiNozzo, who had his head in his hands. Agent David, you were sitting at your desk watching security footage and trying really, really hard not to cry. That's when we decided to come here and help, and Sarah called you, Agent Gibbs."

Ziva's eyes widened. That had been when they had discovered that Keating's two accomplices had been erased from the NCIS employee roster.

Gibbs nodded, looking thoughtful. "DiNozzo, go through Keating's history. I want to know everything there is to know about the guy. TK, stay with him. Any visions you have, you tell DiNozzo, understand? Every detail you recall, no matter how seemingly insignificant. DiNozzo, you don't leave her side, got it? She leaves your sight, you won't even be able to get a job as a mall security guard. Get it?"

"Got it."

"Good."

"Damian, stick with them," Sarah ordered. "You know the drill, if you're compromised, get TK out and meet the rest of us at the place specified. No abilities unless either you or TK is directly threatened. Listen to Agent DiNozzo and do what he says until it contradicts with my instructions. After that, family comes first. Get it?"

"Got it," Damian replied, nodding curtly.

"Good," Sarah nodded curtly as well. "Either one of you gets killed, I'm taking it out of the other's hide." She fastened both TK and Damian with a glare that would do Gibbs proud.

"Speaking of getting killed," Ziva stepped in, "what combat techniques do the four of you know? If I know Tim, he would not let you on your own without sufficient skills to defend yourselves."

Jon snorted. "Got that right," he said. "Tim's been teaching us self defense or making us take classes since we met him. He taught Damian boxing and wrestling, and the girls have blackbelts in karate and tae kwon do. He helped me fine tune my own style that used my ability, plus he's started taking me down to the shooting range he practices at. He says I'm getting pretty good, but I've got a long way to go to get to your level, Agent Gibbs." He turned and gave a polite nod to Gibbs, who blinked in surprise, but quickly recovered.

"You licensed to carry?" Gibbs asked.

"Only open carry," Jon replied.

"You kids know Rule Nine?" Tony asked.

All four of them grinned and each retrieved a knife from various concealed places on their persons. Sarah, Ziva saw, had pulled a slim black boot knife from the top of her left boot, while TK's balisong had come from the right sleeve of her terribly bright orange sweatshirt. Jon took a small utility knife that seemed to have no grip from a hidden pocket in his jeans, and Damian drew what appeared to be a modern recreation of a Japanese _yoroi toshi_, or armor piercing dagger, from concealment at his back.

"The first Christmas after Tim moved here, he got us each a knife, saying that his boss had a rule about them," Sarah said, smirking. "He knew how much I liked boots like this, so he got me a boot knife. TK's good at slight-of-hand tricks, so he got her a butterfly knife and made her practice every day with it. Jon's ability more often than not melts plastic, so his knife is completely metal and heat resistant, and Damian's knife is extra thick and strong so that he doesn't snap the blade if he uses his ability along with it."

Ziva was impressed, she had never realized that Tim was so insightful. Each weapon was perfectly suited to the owner's personality or ability, right down to the multicolored grip on TK's balisong, and the superstrength of Damian's dagger.

Gibbs nodded, the raised eyebrows and tiny smirk revealing his own admiration for Tim's choices. "Ziva, take Jon to my place and get it ready for company, both wanted and unwanted.

"Be careful in the basement, Jon," Sarah called teasingly. "Don't set the boat ablaze."

Jon rolled his eyes and smirked at Sarah.

"Let's go, people!" Gibbs barked. Everyone jumped and scattered, Tony, TK, and Damian heading back up to the bullpen, and Gibbs, Sarah, Jethro, Jon, and Ziva heading to the employee parking lot.

"Ziva, Sarah, the mutt, and I will be around in few hours," Gibbs said. "I'm gonna have Tony clock out and bring the other two over at quitting time. We might end up getting Abby, Ducky, and Jimmy at some point, too, so be ready for that, and for the possibility that Tim might escape and bring company with him."

"Yes Gibbs," Ziva said, nodding. "Should I go grocery shopping on my way there?"

"Might be a good idea," Gibbs replied, giving her a crooked smile. "You've got control of the kitchen, at least for tonight, so whatever you think is necessary. I don't think these kids have eaten recently."

Ziva nodded, already running through recipes for large groups in her mind. Settling on a stew that was quick, easy, and lasted for days, she started composing a grocery list as she climbed into her car and peeled out of the parking lot.

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note: So I should probably apologize for the lateness of this chapter. But I follow Gibbs' rule about apologies, so tough luck. I was working on the plot bunny that bit me two weeks ago. Whether I post it or not is still up in the air, but either way, I'm going to focus on this now, because I haven't quite figured out the climax yet. I've already plotted out my other WIP completely, which is more than I can say for this one, so the other one, currently titled <em>Line in the Sand<em>, is gonna go on the backburner for now. I'll give you a free preview though:**

_**The year is 1869, and Timothy McGee has arrived in the tiny Chisholm Trail town of Roop's Point to find work, fleeing the "No Irish Need Apply" restrictions of the East. There he meets a cast of strange and sometimes dangerous individuals, and discovers not only a threat to the town, but someone he had thought he would never see again. A line in the sand is drawn... will Tim be able to stay on the right side?**_

**Hmm... I seem to be partial to AUs. Oh well, they're fun. Review this fic and let me know if you want me to post _Line in the Sand_. I'm not going to start posting it until this is finished (as G-d is my witness, I will _finish this fanfiction!_) and _Line _is a little bit more substantial, but I'll feel better about posting it if I know people want to read it. So? You know what to do!**

**Happy reading!**


	14. Chapter 14

Greater Good  
>An NCIS Fanfic<br>By CaelumFelis  
>Disclaimer: I don't own NCIS or anything associated with it. Credit for <em>G-d Help The Outcasts<em> goes to Alan Menken and Stephen Schwartz.

* * *

><p><em>McGee Residence<br>Silver Spring, MD  
>1839 EST<em>

Gibbs cut the seals on Tim's front door, the twisting in his gut for once simply a reaction to the unnaturalness of the entire situation. Tim should've been here, sitting at his computer playing some stupid shoot-em-up game, or at his typewriter pounding away at his next novel. Jethro should've been racing up to the door to greet them with that inexhaustible doggy excitement, not standing silently at Sarah's side, eyes bleak, ears and tail drooping in sorrow. The tiny one-bedroom apartment should've been ablaze in light and color and sound, not dark and dim and silent.

He stood aside to let Sarah and Jethro enter, gently squeezing Sarah's shoulder in sympathy as she passed. She gave him a tiny, strained smile in return, and took off Jethro's leash.

"Find them, Jethro," she commanded. "As many scents as you can. Let me know if you find anything you don't recognize."

Jethro barked softly and began, wandering around the tiny, dingy apartment while Sarah and Gibbs stood awkwardly in the middle of the main room. Gibbs became aware of a faint humming sound, and he turned to find Sarah studying the wreckage of her brother's home with tears in her eyes. Her lips were moving, and as Gibbs listened, he could hear the strains of a haunting song.

"_G-d help the outcasts,  
>Hungry from birth.<br>Show them the mercy  
>They don't find on Earth.<br>Please help my people  
>We look to You still.<br>G-d help the outcasts,  
>Or nobody will."<em>

Her voice wobbled, and Gibbs put an arm around her shoulders in silent support. Her voice steadied and grew stronger, as tears ran down her cheeks.

"_I ask for nothing  
>I can get by.<br>But I know so many  
>Less lucky than I.<br>Please help my people  
>The poor and downtrod.<br>I thought we all were  
>The children of G-d.<br>G-d help the outcasts  
>Children of G-d."<em>

Sarah's voice broke, and she turned into Gibbs' shoulder and began to sob. Gibbs wrapped both arms around her and held her tight, trying not to think about what might have been. Would Kelly have become a metahuman, if she had lived? Would she have developed an amazing ability like these five kids had, only to have been feared and reviled by the rest of the world? Gibbs would have liked to think that he never would've turned his baby girl out if she had, but would he have had a choice? Would the Society have taken her away from him simply because of the amazing ability whatever G-d existed had seen fit to give her? Would they have killed him and Shannon to get their hands on Kelly? The very thought made Gibbs' blood run cold, and he held Sarah tighter as he thought of Tim and the suffering he must have been enduring at that moment. Was he even still alive? Was he trying to escape?

"That song was as close to religion as we ever got," Sarah murmured suddenly. "Tim lost whatever faith he had when our parents died. I asked him once, why we didn't go to church on Sundays like the other kids in my kindergarten class did. He said it was because he didn't have time, he was too busy with college and working three jobs. But I think he just couldn't bear the thought of praying when he didn't think there was anyone who could hear him."

Gibbs nodded, thinking about Abby and how Tim would accompany her to church every Sunday that they didn't have a case. He wondered how much of that was Tim's unrequited love for Abby, and how much was a troubled young man's search for answers.

Jethro came bounding back, barking excitedly with his tail wagging. Sarah knelt down, her eyes flashing yellow as she spoke aloud.

"What'd you find, boy?" She asked, ruffling the fur on Jethro's neck. Jethro sat on his haunches and looked Sarah straight in the eye, something Gibbs had never seen a dog do before. Sarah nodded, her expression grave.

"You're sure it's the same?" She asked. Jethro nodded, a very clear, direct dip of his head, then gave the girl a small lick on the cheek. Sarah giggled and kissed the top of the dog's head, then stood and faced Gibbs.

"Jethro says that the same scent that he's noticed all around the building is in here, along with two others he doesn't recognize," she reported. "He's memorized the scents, so he can trace them back to their desks if we go back to NCIS."

"Then we go back to NCIS," Gibbs said, nodding. "Is there anything here you want to take with you?"

Sarah bit her lip, looking around at the destruction throughout the tiny apartment. "Hang on," she said quietly, disappearing into Tim's bedroom. She reappeared a minute later, clutching a square piece of paper in her hands. Gibbs gestured for Sarah to exit first, with Jethro at her heels, and he followed, resealing the doorway.

They drove back to NCIS in silence, Sarah staring at the piece of paper in her hand. Glancing over at her, he discovered that the paper was a photograph, yellowed and worn with age, of a Naval Officer and his wife, with a thirteen or fourteen year old boy and a toddler girl, their children. With a jolt, he realized that the officer was the spitting image of Tim, and that that photo was the agent's family before his parents had died. Sarah looked every bit like a younger version of her mother, and Gibbs wished that the couple was still alive so that he could thank them for bringing Tim and Sarah into the world.

They arrived back at the Navy Yard as the majority of the agency employees were clocking out, so they waited in Gibbs' car for the place to clear out before they got out. Gibbs led the way to his team's bullpen and Tim's desk.

"Here's where Tim was jumped, according to Ducky," he said.

"Jethro, you got anything?" Sarah asked, turning yellow eyes to the Shepherd. Jethro barked in the affirmative, nose to the ground.

"He says he smells Tim, Ducky, and the three scents from Tim's apartment," Sarah reported. "Jethro, track!"

Jethro's tail snapped up, and he yanked hard on the leash clipped to his collar, nearly pulling Sarah off her feet. The Shepherd led them down into the sub-basement where Cybercrimes was housed, and straight to Keating's desk.

"Jethro says that this one's the strongest scent," Sarah reported.

"What about the other two?" Gibbs asked.

"He says that the other two scents were here a lot, he's going to try and track them back to their desks," Sarah replied. Nose back to the ground, Jethro weaved through the various desks and cubicles in the sub-basement, stopping first at one desk, which Gibbs found out belonged to a Gabriel Allman, known as Gabe to his coworkers, and then another, belonging to a Peter Booth.

"Well, this is more than we had earlier this morning," Gibbs commented as they left the building. "Tomorrow, Tony and I will go back in and see if we can track them down."

Sarah grinned as she let Jethro into the classic Dodge Challenger before climbing in herself. Gibbs started the car and pulled out of the parking lot, one eye on the nondescript black sedan following them a couple of blocks back as he turned onto M Street SE. He gave an internal shrug as the car disappeared into the general traffic of the major street, and promptly forgot about it as he skated around the turn onto Eighth Street SE.

However, the car was back as he crossed Massachusetts Avenue, this time only a few car lengths away. He switched lanes a few times, and the car copied him, only a beat behind.

"Are we being followed, Agent Gibbs?" Sarah asked, turning around in her seat to look out the back window of the Dodge.

"Looks like it," Gibbs replied. "Might want to sit straight and hang on to something." The words were barely out of his mouth before he saw the light for Maryland Avenue.

"Jethro, get down!" Sarah yelped as he took the right turn like a NASCAR driver. He cursed as the car followed, nearly running down a delivery boy on a bicycle.

The car followed their every move for almost forty five minutes before Gibbs decided he'd had enough.

"Here," he growled, tossing his cell phone to Sarah. "Call Ziva, tell her that we've got unexpected visitors, and ask her if Tony and the kids made it to my place."

Sarah did as she was told, and Gibbs heard her confirm that Tony, TK, and Damian had arrived at his house, along with Abby, Ducky, and Jimmy. Once she was done, Sarah snapped the phone shut and dropped it into the center console.

"They're ready for us," she reported. "Ziva suggested that we try and take the driver alive, so that we can question him. He may know where Tim is."

Gibbs grunted and yanked hard on the steering wheel, flying them around the ramp coming off of the Beltway. They flew through Silver Spring, barely missing hitting numerous other vehicles as Gibbs' hope of scaring off their purser slowly died. Sarah cowered in her seat, her hands covering her face, and Jethro yelped and whimpered as he was tossed around in the backseat.

He cursed as they entered Rock Creek Park and the car came up behind them, now almost touching his back bumper. He pressed harder on the gas, and nearly ran off the road when a bullet shattered his passenger side rearview mirror.

Sarah shrieked as another bullet shattered her window, and Gibbs yanked the car over to the other side of the road, causing the next bullet to go straight through the back window and streak between them to shatter the windshield as well. Sarah screamed, and Jethro started barking, snarling murderously at their pursuer.

"JETHRO GET DOWN!" Sarah screamed, reaching behind Gibbs' seat to grasp the dog's collar and yank him down to the floor.

Another bullet shattered the driver's side rearview mirror, and then the driver's side window. Gibbs growled in fury and drew his gun, reaching back to fire at the other car. Despite the constant motion of the two cars and his own bad eyesight, he managed to shoot the bastard's gun right out of his hand. Before their pursuer had a chance to react, Gibbs had gunned the engine of his vehicle and was speeding down the road like the devil himself.

_Be ready, Ziver, here we come,_ he thought grimly.

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note: Holy punctuality, Batman! An update within twenty four hours of a previous update? Incredible!<strong>

**Honestly though, I'd been geeking out about this particular chapter since posting Ch. 13 last night. I love the song I put in here, I think it's an absolutely gorgeous piece of music, and eerily appropriate for this particular chapter. And the car chase was kind of spur of the moment, I wanted to set something up for the next chapter, in which Tim's sibs have to earn their keep ; ).**

**Happy reading, and review please! I've gotten a lot of positive feedback about _Line in the Sand_, so as soon as this baby's done (I'm thinking another five to ten chapters, considering the fact that they all seem to be pretty short), I'm gonna get to work on that one and start posting it. So look for it around the first of the year, if I keep up my current pace.**

**Okie dokie then, I'm off to write a hopefully epic meta battle. Wish me luck!**


	15. Chapter 15

Greater Good  
>An NCIS Fanfic<br>By CaelumFelis  
>Disclaimer: I don't own NCIS or anything associated with it.<p>

* * *

><p><em>Gibbs Residence<br>Hawthorne, Washington DC  
>2050 EST<em>

Tony couldn't see anything in the darkness of the winter night, but he could faintly hear the squealing of tires and the rapid popping of gunfire.

"Here they come!" TK cried, blue eyes bright in the gloom.

"Jon, you're up," Tony said, nodding at the young man. "Light up the sky."

Jon nodded and stood on the sidewalk, peering out into the darkness of the street. Tony watched from the porch with Damian, Ziva, and TK, while Ducky, Jimmy, and Abby waited indoors.

"They're coming around the corner!" TK called, and Tony could hear the tire squeals growing louder as two vehicles careened around the corner onto Gibbs' street.

"Jon, _now!"_ Tony yelled.

Jon's eyes began to glow red as embers, visible to Tony from the front porch. His hands also began to take on a low red aura as well, and Tony, flashing back to eighth grade science, realized that the boy's hands were so hot that they were throwing off light.

Without warning, Jon swung his right hand up and around and shot a spear of flame straight up into the air, lighting up almost the entire block in flickering red, orange, and yellow light.

"Damian, get ready," Tony warned.

Damian nodded and jogged over to the side of the road. He stood loosely, arms akimbo, as the bright yellow Dodge, glowing almost orange in the firelight, streaked past.

"NOW!" Tony roared, and Damian's eyes gleamed silver as he darted into the street and took a stance reminiscent of a linebacker, feet planted shoulder width apart, knees bent, chest forward, butt out, hands forward, ready to stop anything coming at him. The second car came screaming around the corner, and Tony bit his lip as it bore down on the young man. Damian tensed, readjusted where his hands were, and caught the car as it smashed into him, grabbing it by the bumper.

TK screamed as the car's back end kept traveling, causing it to pitch up into the air. Damian grunted and readjusted his grip, wrapping his arms around the car's nose as the hood smashed into his upper body. Tony watched in awe as the car came to a stop, hugged to the willowy young man's chest completely perpendicular to the road, the wheels spinning madly as the panicking driver floored the gas pedal. Damian growled and slammed the car back down, crushing the undercarriage and wheels with his force. Faster than Tony could blink, he tore the car's hood clean off and ripped out the engine block with his bare hands, tossing the nearly red hot mass of steel and gas and oil away like a child's toy.

A gunshot sounded, a hole appeared in the car's smashed windshield, and then a _thunk_ was heard as the bullet dropped to the ground, smashed nearly flat from its impact against Damian's chest.

"Move in!" Tony yelled, drawing his own weapon. The two agents and Jon advanced upon the car, weapons, or in Jon's case, flames, at the ready, as Damian ripped off the driver's side front door and reached inside. He plucked the driver's pistol out of his hand and bodily lifted the skinny, balding man out of the car, holding him almost a foot off the ground. He handed Tony the gun as the man whimpered and wriggled in his grasp.

"SIG Sauer, same model we use," Tony said, studying the weapon. He rattled off the serial number to Ziva, who quickly committed it to memory, then handed the gun back to Damian, who crushed it in his hand like a soda can.

"DiNozzo!"

Tony turned to find Gibbs, Sarah, and Jethro running up to them, Gibbs with his gun out, and Sarah looking furious. The young woman stalked right up to Damian and his captive, and cracked her hand across the bald man's face in one of the hardest slaps Tony had ever seen.

"Damian, put him down," she hissed. Damian did as he was told immediately, grasping the man's upper arms just tightly enough that he had no chance of escape.

"Who are you?" Sarah demanded, fury and hate causing her lips to curl up into a snarl frighteningly similar to that of an angry lioness. "Why were you trying to kill us?"

The man was silent, staring at her with wide eyes blank with pure terror.

"TALK!" Sarah roared, her narrowed eyes flashing yellow. Jethro barked to emphasize her point, and snapped at the man's heels, jerking him out of his stupor.

"Please, please don't kill me!" He wailed, slumping in Damian's grasp. "It was all Keating's idea, he wanted to get McGee to cooperate with him on something, something about finding all the metas in the country. He thought if McGee heard that his little sister had been killed he'd be more willing to cooperate with him!"

Jon growled, a flame formed like a short knife grasped in his hand. The man whimpered, shrinking in Damian's grip.

"Are you a member of the Society?" Sarah asked.

"The what? What Society?" The man whimpered, utterly confused. "Danny's the one who believes all that crap about mitas or metas and shit like that. He asked me and Gabe to help him out, keep tabs on McGee and his little sister and his team. He said with McGee out of the way, he was gonna become a field agent, and then me and Gabe would become the best in Cybercrimes."

"And you believed that shit?" Tony couldn't believe his ears. The thought of Keating ever being reinstated as a field agent, with or without Tim in the picture, was as ridiculous as Gibbs heading up Cybercrimes. According to the letters Gibbs had sent him while Tony was serving as Agent Afloat, Keating was one of the worst field agents the man had ever worked with, possessing a complete lack of investigative instinct and an inability to speak in anything other than geek speak. Even Tim as a bright green, shiny new probie had been a better field agent than the "boy genius".

The man hung his head. "Danny can be… pretty convincing when he wants to be," he murmured.

"Where is Daniel Keating?" Sarah growled. The man shrugged, and Sarah slapped him again. "Where is he, Peter? Tell me, or I will rip you apart with my bare hands!"

"I don't know!" Peter wailed. "I don't know where Danny is, I haven't heard from him since he took off with McGee this morning!"

Sarah snarled. "You better hope Timothy McGee is alive when we find him, Peter," she hissed. She slapped him one more time, then turned to Gibbs, yellow eyes burning with fury. "Do what you want with him, Agent Gibbs, he's useless to me and my siblings."

Gibbs nodded and glanced at Tony, his expression stating quite clearly to _get this piece of filth out of my sight before I shoot it out of principle_.

"Peter Booth, you're under arrest for being an accomplice in the kidnapping and/or murder of a federal agent, attempted murder of another federal agent, and attempted murder of Sarah McGee," Gibbs said, as Tony snapped his handcuffs on the man's wrists. As Gibbs read Booth his rights, Tony watched Sarah discuss something with her two brothers, as she looked something up on her cell phone. Jon and Damian nodded, and then Damian lifted the car up over his head, and the two boys started jogging down the road, and disappeared into the night.

"DiNozzo, we're dropping this scumbag back at the office," Gibbs said, jerking his head towards his car. "While we're there, pick up whatever you found about Keating, and we'll go over it back at my place."

"Yes, Boss," Tony said, steering Booth over to the Dodge. They drove back to NCIS, booked Booth, and came back to Gibbs' place in record time, and after a great meal provided by Ziva, the team and the McGee siblings all gathered in Gibbs' basement to go over what had been turned up in the investigation so far.

"Daniel Andrew Keating, age 32, graduated from the California Institute of Technology at age twenty two with a Master's Degree in Computer Forensics," Tony rattled off, reading out of the dossier he'd compiled that evening. He was cut off when Jon snorted.

"Caltech," he sneered.

"What about it?" Gibbs asked, glaring at the boy.

"MIT and Caltech are huge rivals," Sarah explained, scowling at Jon and elbowing him sharply. "School pride probably has at least a little bit to do with why Keating decided to go off the deep end. If he can best the technopath from MIT, the whole world's his oyster."

Tony glanced at Ducky, who shrugged. "People have killed for less, Anthony," the ME said simply.

"That's true," Tony mused. "Anyway, he'd been hired almost straight out of college and was Cybercrimes golden boy until he got "promoted" to Gibbs' team. Four months later, he's kicked back down to Cybercrimes again, to his apparent relief, according to his mom. All quiet on that front for the next two or so years, until this past couple of months, where friends in Cybercrimes say that Keating slowly grew obsessed with watching Tim after a trip up to MTAC."

"Tony, we know how and why, but we need to know _where_," Ziva growled.

"Um… well, apparently Keating's grandparents left him a cabin in West Virginia, he's been trying to sell it for four years, but the place is too run down, and he can't afford to fix it up. Place has a single generator, just enough to power lights, a fridge, an oven, and a microwave. Near as I can tell, the place is completely cut off, no cell phone reception, no internet, not even a phone line." Tony grimaced.

"Tim's version of hell," Damian said quietly.

"I can't think of a better place to stash a technopath where he won't cause any trouble," Sarah snarled. "So? Let's go!"

Gibbs turned to Ziva. "David-"

"Warrant. On it, Gibbs," Ziva said, gathering up the files and flying up the stairs.

"We can't do anything until Ziva comes back with that warrant, so everyone try and get some shuteye," Gibbs ordered. "Abby, you, Sarah, and TK can share Kelly's room, Tony, you, Palmer, Jon, and Damian can share the guest room. Ducky, you take my bed."

Any protests anyone had were silenced by the terrific glare Gibbs leveled, and everyone scurried upstairs until only Tony and Gibbs were left.

"Boss, there were three guys on the surveillance tape," he said, sitting on a sawhorse as Gibbs dumped nails out of a mason jar and poured a few fingers of bourbon into it. "Assuming that two of the men were Keating and Booth, that means we're missing one."

"Gabriel Allman," Gibbs said. "He wasn't at NCIS when we identified him and Booth as Keating's accomplices."

"Should I get Abby and trace his cell?" Tony asked. He didn't want to drag Abby back out to NCIS, it'd been a long day, and the lab bat had been working almost non-stop while simultaneously worrying her head off about McGee, but if it meant getting Allman faster and finding Tim, he'd do it.

"No, she needs her rest," Gibbs said. "It's been a long day for all of us, especially since we haven't really had a break since our last case. Let her sleep."

Tony nodded. "You need to sleep too, Boss. I'll take first watch."

Gibbs blinked and stared at Tony almost uncomprehendingly, before smirking and nodding. "Wake me up at 0000."

"You got it, Boss."

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note: Not much to say about this, although I loved writing the beginning. <strong>

**Congratulations to Hermione's Shadow, who became the 100th person to review this fic! We're now at 117 and counting, far and away the most reviews I've gotten on all three of my published fics! Thanks to everyone who reviewed, either this or my other two fics, and congrats, Hermione's Shadow!**

**We're rounding the clubhouse turn now, and I can see the end, so it looks like _Line in the Sand_ will begin on schedule! Keep an eye out for it after the first of the new year!**

**Happy Reading!**


	16. Chapter 16

Greater Good  
>An NCIS Fanfic<br>By CaelumFelis  
>Disclaimer: I don't own NCIS or anything associated with it.<p>

* * *

><p><em>Unknown Location<br>West Virginia  
>Unknown Time EST<em>

Tim was back in his zone, searching phone records in New Jersey. And hacking the Social Security Administration mainframe. And trawling through Family and Social Services records from Florida to Maine. He was also (very, very carefully) sniffing out a path through Keating's minefield to the rest of cyberspace.

He was getting a massive headache from all of the networking, but it was worth the effort if it kept Keating distracted from his primary focus. Tim wasn't even looking at the data his drones were feeding back to him- as long as they kept to the parameters Keating had set, he didn't much care what they dug up. With any luck, they'd trip something at their various tech support headquarters' and trace the hack back to wherever the hell he was.

He navigated carefully around another roadblock on his chosen path out of Keating's little library, and snorted. _This guy's got no imagination,_ he thought. The library was filed with access points to various records archives and databases. If Tim was running a background check, he might've been appreciative, but this was just depressing. How was he supposed to find metas if all he had access to were birth certificates and Social Security numbers?

Not that he actually was finding metas, he just wanted to complain about something, since the dialup connection Keating had provided him access to (good Lord, it was like something out of the Stone Age!) had horrendous bandwidth. He needed to do _something_ to pass the time as everything loaded.

Damn Keating. He now had irrefutable proof that the man would _never_ have made it as a field agent. The guy just couldn't think outside the box.

Another trap avoided, and Tim only had a few layers of encryption to work on before he could escape into the rest of cyberspace and contact his team. He checked in with his drones, made sure Keating's parameters were programmed in correctly, and then dove into the encryptions headfirst, breaking through the first layer within minutes, bandwidth from hell be damned.

Halfway through the second layer, he realized that a satellite phone was in use close by. Tim bookmarked his place and wormed his way into the feed from the sat phone, rejoicing when he realized it was Keating who was using it. He listened in on the conversation, hoping to learn something useful.

"_I hope you've got a good reason to be calling me, Allman,"_ Keating growled.

_Allman_, Tim thought frantically. _Gotta remember that. Must be one of the accomplices._

"_Booth's been arrested,"_ Allman got straight to the point. _"He was tailing Gibbs and the freak's little sister and got spotted. He tried to run 'em off the road, but two other metas stopped him and totaled his car."_

_Keating, Allman, and Booth,_ Tim made himself memorize the names as he continued listening, waffling between pride and sheer terror as Allman recounted how his siblings, with the help of his team, cornered Booth and destroyed his car.

"_He's in NCIS custody now, but pretty much the only thing he didn't rat out was your location,"_ Allman reported. _"He sang like a canary about almost everything else, though. It's only a matter of time before they get him to crack about the original attack."_

"_Damn it!__"_ A crash sounded on Keating's end, and Tim jumped, nearly losing his hold on the sat phone feed. _"Where the hell were you?"_

"_Relax, Danny, they never saw me,"_ Allman boasted. _"They don't have a clue, we're in the clear."_

_Don't bet on it,_ Tim growled to himself, keeping the sat phone feed open as he resumed his slow, careful disassembly of the encryptions surrounding his zone.

"_Where are you now?"_ Keating demanded.

"_On my way in your direction,"_ Allman replied.

"_You're positive you're not being followed?"_

"_I'm looking in my mirrors right now, Danny, there's nobody," _Allman soothed.

"_Whatever,"_ Keating growled. _"You get a tail, you do whatever it takes to shake it off, you hear me? Don't show up here with anyone following you, got it?"_

"_You got it, Danny," _Allman replied cheerfully. _"See you in a few."_

Keating hung up, and Tim dropped the sat phone feed, and refocused his attention on the encryptions. The part of his consciousness that was always are of his physical location warned him of footsteps outside the cellar, and in a split second he bookmarked his place and switched to going over the results of the search his drones were running. He was violently thrust out of his zone when a fist belted across his face.

All at once, all the stimuli of the physical world came rushing back to him the bone-numbing cold of the cellar room and the wind flooding it, the pain in his side from where Keating had stabbed him, the sound of the wind and Keating's voice shouting obscenities at him as he continued to pummel Tim, taking out his frustration and rage on his captive. Tim, knowing he was in no condition to fight back, simply curled up on his side and took the beating as stoically as he could, wincing internally as the movement broke open the crust of grime and dried blood that had formed over his wound.

_Great,_ Tim thought dimly, sighing to himself. _As if I wasn't close enough to dying…_

And with that thought, he blacked out, and came to an indeterminate amount of time later to find himself alone again. Wonder of wonders, he was still alive, but he knew that it wouldn't last long. Already the pain of his wound and the beating he'd just endured was fading, resulting in a rather pleasant floaty feeling. For a moment, he allowed himself to forget everything, and simply enjoy the feeling, the release from pain and fear and rage.

From somewhere in the distance, he could hear a car pull up. Running footsteps thundered on the ceiling above his head, and a gun was cocked.

_Shit!_ Tim thought frantically. _Please don't be the team, please, don't be the team…_

A door slammed, and Tim could hear Keating yelling, although he couldn't make out the words.

_NOW MCGEE!_ Gibbs' voice echoed in his head, sounding exactly as he had when Tim had hackd the CIA in his basement. _Finish it now, while he's distracted!_

Feeling fuzzy and disoriented, Tim obeyed, diving back into his zone and the encryption he was only minutes away from breaking. He stopped his drones, focusing all of his energy and bandwidth on the encryptions.

_Come on, come on…_ He growled to himself. He ignored the double-tap of gunshots that split the air outside, ignored the cold that had settled into his bones, the vise that gripped his chest and made breathing next to impossible, the blood still sluggishly oozing down his hip to the floor. Nothing mattered but the code that stretched endlessly before him like the sky itself, the numbers moving and changing ceaselessly.

A single digit placed in the perfect spot, and the code froze for a split second as the change registered before scrolling before him even faster than before, processing his adjustments.

_Keating's good,_ he thought dully, working more on autopilot now as he accessed the GPS mainframe and sent his coordinates to Tony's cell, _but I will __always__ be better._

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note: Not long now! Only three or four chapters to go!<strong>


	17. Chapter 17

Greater Good  
>An NCIS Fanfic<br>By CaelumFelis  
>Disclaimer: I don't own NCIS or anything associated with it.<p>

* * *

><p><em>En Route to Keating Hideout<br>Harman, WV  
>0637 EST<em>

Gibbs kept his eyes glued to the road in front of him, fighting to keep the sedan from slipping on the icy mountain roads. Beside him, Ziva dozed, acting on his orders to get as much rest as possible. Sarah, Jon, and Damian were attempting to do the same in the back seat, but while the boys were both out cold on either side of her, Sarah was simply staring at the upholstered ceiling of the car, deep in thought.

Gibbs was about to say something to her when his cell phone rang. Growling slightly, he grabbed it from the cupholder and flipped it open.

"Gibbs."

"_Boss, I just got a text from Tim! GPS coordinates- he's definitely at the cabin!"_ Tony sounded like he was channeling Abby as he babbled in Gibbs' ear, but the team leader was too relieved to care. He glanced quickly at the clock on the dash- fifteen minutes away.

"Great, thanks Tony," he said quickly, hanging up. No sooner had he closed the flip phone than it began to ring again. Sighing in frustration, he answered.

"Gibbs."

"_Gibbs-Gibbs-Gibbs!"_ Abby's voice blasted into his ear. _"TK had another vision! She says Keating's killed Allman and he's setting the cabin on fire! Tim's trapped in the cellar and he's unconscious! You have to hurry!"_

Gibbs didn't reply, he hung up and floored the gas pedal, causing the Charger to jerk forward and waking Ziva and the boys up.

"Dude, what the hell!" Damian yelped, but Gibbs was too angry and too focused to answer.

Fifteen minutes was cut down to seven as Gibbs pushed the limits of both the car and physics itself. His heart leapt into his throat when he saw the tall column of smoke rising from over the ridge, and again when they arrived to find a small house completely consumed in flames, with the body of a man sprawled a few feet away from what was the front door.

"Jon, Damian, _hurry!"_ Sarah screamed. The boys tore out of the car, Damian racing straight into the inferno as Jon stopped just a yard from the house, hands up as though trying to calm a spooked horse. The flames sputtered and jerked, and very slowly shrank in size, although judging by the grimace of effort on Jon's face, Gibbs suspected that he was holding onto his control of the inferno by the skin of his teeth.

He ran over to the body, and growled in frustration when he saw that it was Gabriel Allman, and he was indeed dead.

"Gibbs! I have found a trail!" Ziva called.

For the first time in a very long time, Gibbs didn't know where he wanted to be more. He couldn't bear seeing Sarah looking so distraught and terrified as she watched the house burn. He wanted more than anything to wrap her up in his arms and tell her that everything was gonna be okay, just like he would've done for Kelly, but Ziva was waiting for orders, and he couldn't let her go after Keating alone the very idea was so offensive that he felt like ralphing at the mere thought.

This was ridiculous. Every second he wasted in indecision was a second more Keating had to get away. But he couldn't move, couldn't leave, not until…

A second sedan skidded to a stop on the hard packed snow, Tony and Ducky leaping out before the vehicle had even stopped moving. Ducky was already calling for an ambulance as Tony raced over to Sarah, just in time to catch her from falling to the ground as Damian sprinted out of the house, a body draped in a fireman's carry over his shoulder. Once he was clear, Jon relaxed his stance and dropped his hands, sinking to his knees in exhaustion as the fire exploded outward before the house collapsed into a towering pile of kindling, smoke, and flame.

Watching the two boys take up guard positions around Tim, Sarah, Ducky, and Tony, Gibbs nodded to himself. Ducky would take care of Tim and make sure he was all right, and Sarah had her brothers and Tony for comfort and protection. He could now turn his full attention to the dirtbag who'd done this, and teach him what happened to those who hurt his family.

"Let's go, Ziver," he growled, and Ziva nodded and began to lead the way, down a trail of footprints in the snow that were so obvious a blind man could follow them. Gibbs grinned Keating was too scared to try and hide his trail anymore. He was desperate, and desperate men made mistakes.

A yelp of pain, frantically muffled, half a mile northwest. Gibbs began running with renewed vigor, eager for the blood of the man who had hurt his youngest boy. He could hear Ziva behind him, hissing at him to slow down, but he paid her no mind.

Closer now, terrified panting filled the air, and he saw a shape through the trees, gimping through the snow. Gibbs drew his SIG and increased his speed, determined to catch his prey.

He got a bead on Keating, lined up the perfect shot, and fired, double-tapping the bastard in the uninjured leg and dropping him like a stone.

Keating screamed, clutching the wound and curled up on the ground in an undignified heap. Gibbs watched him writhe, idly trying to decide if he felt any pity for the bastard. Then the image of Tim lying in a hospital bed, battered and bruised and sliced open like a side of beef, assaulted him, and he trained his SIG on Keating's head and pulled back the hammer.

"Gibbs!"

"Boss, don't!"

"Agent Gibbs, please stop!"

Gibbs kept his bead on Keating as Ziva, Tony, and Sarah burst out of the trees behind him.

"DiNozzo, who's in charge of the scene?" Gibbs growled.

"Director Vance himself, Boss," Tony replied breathlessly. "I called for backup as soon as we left your place."

"And Tim?" He whispered, hardly daring to breathe as he awaited the answer.

"He wasn't breathing when Damian got him out, but Dr. Mallard and Agent DiNozzo were able to get him breathing again," Sarah reported gently. "He's now in an ambulance on his way to Bethesda with Dr. Mallard and Damian. Jon stayed to keep the fire under control."

Gibbs nodded absently, not really listening to the words at all. Once he'd heard the words "breathing", "ambulance", and "Bethesda", his brain had shut down out of pure relief. His boy was safe, and getting help.

"Um, Boss? You can put the gun down now," Tony said slowly. "You got him, he's not going anywhere."

Gibbs suddenly remembered where he was and what he was doing, and who the sniveling little bastard at his feet was and why he was there. His SIG, which had been slowly lowering as Sarah spoke, jerked back up and re-aimed on Keating.

"Crap!" Boss, you don't wanna do that!" Tony yelped, as Sarah shrieked in fear.

"Why the hell not, DiNozzo?" Gibbs growled, glaring at the former agent with all the hate he could muster.

"Because Tim wouldn't want it!" Sarah cried, and Gibbs blinked in shock as she ran into him and wrapped her arms around him from behind. He could feel her trembling.

"Gibbs, _think_ for a moment," Ziva said quietly. "Think about Tim. He was horrified when he learned about what you did to Hernandez. Do you really think he would want you to kill Keating as well?"

He felt a hand on his arm, gently forcing it down, and he looked up to see Tony, smiling sadly at him.

"Tim _needs_ you, Boss," he said quietly. "He needs you to be the hero he believes you are. If you do this, he'll lose the only father he has left. Don't you think he's been through enough already?"

Gibbs studied his senior field agent's face. His oldest boy's hazel green eyes were wide, his skin pale except for the pink of windblown cheeks. He looked terrified, and for the life of him, Gibbs couldn't remember a single time in the ten years and change in which he'd known the cocky ex-cop that he'd ever looked so scared.

"What are you afraid of, DiNozzo?" He asked quietly.

"Losing both my father and my brother in one day," Tony replied simply. "Let go, Boss. Please. Tim needs you."

Gibbs looked from Tony to Keating, his trigger finger itching so bad it was driving him insane. Keating's eyes were wide, and Gibbs could practically smell the man's fear. _It would be so easy,_ he mused. _Just pull the trigger, and he'll never bother Tim again._

_It's __too__ easy!_ A smaller voice protested. _He needs to rot in jail for what he did! That's what Tim would want!_

Gibbs sighed and holstered his gun. "Tony, book him, and get him the hell out of my sight."

He turned away, ignoring the yelps of pain issuing from the ex-agent as Tony manhandled him to his feet and read him his rights.

"Sarah," he called, catching the girl's eye and jerking his head. Sarah immediately fell into step behind him, and the two of them silently hiked back to the now smoldering pile of former cabin. Jon was circling the burnt out lot, eyeing the small pockets of flame still flickering.

"Jon, come on, we're gonna go see Tim," Sarah called.

Jon nodded, and with a wave of his hand, the remaining flames died. He jogged over to the sedan, reaching it at the same time as Sarah and Gibbs. The three climbed in, Sarah riding shotgun and Jon sprawling out in the back, obviously exhausted.

"You okay, son?" Gibbs asked quietly, glancing up at the rearview mirror to study the young man.

"Fine, just tired," Jon replied, yawning. "Been a long time since I dealt with a fire that big."

"Got a few hours to sleep before we get to Bethesda," Gibbs said, gunning the engine. When Jon didn't reply, he turned around and realized that the kid had already fallen asleep.

He shared a quick smirk with Sarah before throwing the car into drive and screeching off towards DC.

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note: Probably not the climax you were thinking of, but don't worry- this baby ain't over 'til the fat lady sings!<strong>


	18. Chapter 18

Greater Good  
>An NCIS Fanfic<br>By CaelumFelis  
>Disclaimer: I don't own NCIS or anything associated with it.<p>

**Author's Note: WARNING- This chapter contains some rather nasty language, so I'm giving it an M designation. Sorry for any offense, folks! **

* * *

><p><em>Navy Yard<br>Washington, DC  
>1249 EST<em>

Ziva watched Keating squirm as he sat in front of the one-way window in Interrogation. His face was a ghastly greenish white, and his left heel was tapping wildly. He had been sitting in the small room for the better part of an hour and a half, while Tony compiled all of their evidence.

The door slammed open, causing both Ziva and Keating to jump, even though Ziva was half expecting it. Tony strode in, looking furious, and slammed the door again behind him. He dropped the thick casefile onto the table, and dropped into the chair across from Keating, his entire body stiff and his movements controlled and tense.

Ziva knew what he was feeling, she was feeling it herself. They both wanted to be at Bethesda with Tim, but they had to take care of this waste of area first.

"_Special Agent Keating, you're being charged with the kidnapping and two counts of attempted murder of Special Agent Timothy McGee,"_ Tony growled, no trace of the fun he usually had in interrogation present. _"We have you on video entering Agent McGee's home at 2:39 yesterday morning with both Special Agents Gabriel Allman and Peter Booth."_

"_There's no way you can prove that, DiNozzo,"_ Keating sneered. _"Try again."_

"_Oh, I don't have to try,"_ Tony smirked. _"Also got the three of you on security footage from the squadroom upstairs when you kidnapped Agent McGee, plus he was able to send Special Agent Gibbs a text message identifying you by name."_

A vein twitched in Keating's forehead, and Ziva smirked.

"_That's not possible,"_ he growled.

"_Why?"_

Keating didn't answer.

"_Ziva, you mind? Agent Keating and I need a bit of privacy, please,"_ Tony said suddenly. Ziva turned to the AV tech beside her.

"Charlie, have you gone on your lunch break yet?" She asked sweetly, smiling at the pimply faced technician.

"N-n-no, ma'am," Charlie replied, eyes wide as he looked up at her.

"Do not call me ma'am, Charlie, it is Agent David or Ziva," she said. "Go ahead on your break, Charlie. I will make sure that they do not destroy the room while you are gone."

"O-okay, ma-Agent David," Charlie said. "D-d-do you w-w-want m-m-me to stop r-recording?"

"Would you? That would be wonderful, thank you, Charlie," Ziva purred. Charlie grinned stupidly, turned off the recording equipment, and practically skipped out the door.

Ziva smirked and pressed the intercom button. "All clear, Tony," she said.

"_Thanks, Zi,"_ he replied, giving her a thumbs up without turning around. _"So, Agent Keating, why is it not possible that Agent McGee sent Agent Gibbs a text about you before you kidnapped him?"_

"_Fucking bastard!"_ Keating roared, slamming his hands down and standing up so quickly that his chair crashed backwards to the ground. _"He's a fucking metahuman, man! He deserved everything I gave him and more! He shouldn't be allowed to live, much less get a job like ours! He should've died in that g-ddamn fire!"_

Ziva blinked, not expecting him to come out and say it. She grabbed her phone, and hit speed dial four.

"_Abby Scuito."_

"Abby, where are you?" Ziva demanded.

"_Wrapping things up in my lab, I'm about to take off and go to Bethesda," _the lab bat replied.

"I need you to come to Interrogation and turn the recording equipment back on, _now_," Ziva said. "I sent the tech off to have lunch, but Keating has started clucking like a chicken."

"_Singing, Zi, he's started singing like a canary,"_ Abby sighed. There was a pause, and then Ziva held her phone away from her ear as Abby screeched. _"OH MY G-D! I'll be right there, don't move a muscle!"_ Abby hung up, and Ziva turned her attention back to the interrogation.

"_Wanna repeat that to me, Keating?"_ Tony asked carefully.

"_You fucking heard me, DiNozzo,"_ Keating sneered. _"I beat up that freak and cut his name into him for the entire world to see, and when he didn't fucking die, I kidnapped him, and made him track down each and every meta on the whole fucking East Coast. And then when that bastard Allman showed up, I knew you guys weren't gonna be far behind. So I shot him, and lit the blasted place up like a candle. I was never able to sell it anyway, not much loss."_

Ziva shivered at the coldness of the bastard's voice, and the frigidity of Tony's as he slammed a testimony pad and a pen down on the table. _"Write it down. All of it. Every single damn thing you did, from the time you first started planning this to now. Sign and date on the bottom."_

The door to the observation room crashed open, and Abby raced in, yelling, "I'm here, I'm here!"

"You just missed it," Ziva said sadly.

"Damn it!" Abby cried, stomping her foot. "Did he say why?"

"No, he did not," Ziva replied.

"He will," Abby said confidently. "He's such a stuck up creep that he'll want the whole world to know."

"_I just have one more question,"_ Tony said suddenly. Keating rolled his eyes, but continued writing. _"Why? Why do all this?"_

"_Lots of reasons, DiNozzo,"_ Keating sneered. _"Payback, and I needed to do something to prove to the rest of the Society that I meant business. Think of it as an initiation. Every member of the Society has to kill a meta in order to join. Once you're in, the more metas you kill without getting caught, the higher up you get. That nurse you pinched at Bethesda? She's killed eighty metas so far."_

Tony made a disgusted noise, and turned away. Ziva and Abby looked at each other, horrified.

_How can someone think so little of other human beings?_ Ziva wondered. Tim and Keating had worked together on the very rare occasions that a case required the assistance of Cybercrimes. She'd assumed that, while not friends, then the two were at least congenial colleagues. She knew that Tim had been rather annoyed with the changes that Keating had made to his workstation, but she also knew that her sweet-natured surrogate brother was not normally prone to holding grudges, and he very, very rarely let his personal feelings get in the way of his work.

"_All done,"_ Keating announced. Tony grabbed the confession and glanced it over, making sure that it was signed and dated, before sliding it into the casefile.

"_Ziva, call the MPs, have them escort Agent Keating to holding,"_ Tony called.

Ziva did so, and five minutes later, Keating was being toad-marched down the hall to the holding cells, and Ziva, Tony, and Abby were packed into Tony's car, on their way to Bethesda.

"Abby, have you heard anything about Tim?" Tony asked quietly.

"No, nothing," Abby whimpered. "TK said she'd call when there was news, but she hasn't yet."

"Tim will be all right," Ziva said, staring straight ahead at the road as Tony drove. "He is a warrior at heart. And besides, Gibbs did not give him permission to die, yes? Gibbs will not allow him to die."

"Zi's right, Abbs," Tony said. "Tim always does exactly what the Boss tells him to, if Gibbs orders him not to die, he won't."

They reached the hospital in record time, and Ziva and Abby ambushed the receptionist as Tony parked the car.

"We need to find Special Agent Timothy McGee, he was brought here by ambulance three hours ago," Ziva said quickly. The receptionist smiled kindly at her and tapped a few keys.

"Yes, the NCIS agent? He's currently in the ICU, although his condition was recently downgraded to critical but stable," she said. "He's currently intubated, but his vitals are looking good. Only two people can visit at a time, though."

"Thank you," Ziva said, grabbing Abby's wrist and dragging her to the ICU.

They found Gibbs, Ducky, TK, and the rest of Tim's siblings all crowded into the ICU waiting room, and all looking exhausted and worried. Sarah was leaning against Jon's shoulder, dozing away, while Damian snored quietly from where he was leaning against the wall. TK was curled up against Gibbs, who stared blankly into space, while Ducky was pretending to read a golf magazine.

"Gibbs?" Abby whispered.

The team leader blinked, and glanced over at the two women. "He's gonna be fine, Abbs," he whispered, smiling. "Lost a lot of blood, and the smoke nearly got to him, but he's gonna be fine."

"Blood?" Ziva asked, wondering if she wanted to know.

"Bastard stabbed him at some point yesterday, he would've bled out if Keating hadn't panicked and torched the place," Gibbs growled. Then his tone softened, and he jerked his head in the direction of the ICU. "Go on and see him, you two."

Abby needed no further invitation- she grabbed Ziva's arm, and the pair crept slowly into the ICU ward. They glanced at each chart for the patient's name, and found him nearly at the end of the ward.

If Ziva had thought that the first time was bad, this time was definitely worse. Tim had a thick tube pushed in his mouth and down his throat, and the mechanical whirring of the machine he needed to use to breathe was deafening. He was also covered in small, shiny burns and multiple bruises, and his entire torso from chest to hips was covered in bandages. The hair on his arms was singed off, and even his lovely brown combover was singed nearly back to buzz cut length, something Ziva knew he would be terribly disappointed about.

"Sleep well, _achi,"_ she whispered, gently kissing Tim's forehead. "We will be waiting when you wake up."

She stepped back as Abby came forward, mumbled something in Tim's ear, and kissed his cheek. The two left the ward just as Tony came racing up, barely giving them a second glance before running inside. Ziva smiled- for all of his rousing, Tony did care about Tim, even if he would never admit it out loud.

She and Abby found seats with their surrogate family, returning the tentative smiles Tim's siblings gave them. Sarah sat up and turned to them, taking Ziva's hand in her own.

"I just wanted to thank you and Abby for accepting us and Tim, the way we are," she said quietly. "Not many people are as tolerant as you guys are, and it really makes me and my siblings happy, knowing that Tim's found people who love him for who he is."

Abby burst into tears and threw her arms around Sarah, while Ziva simply smiled and squeezed the girl's hand.

"You are most welcome, _achot sheli_," she murmured. "It is our pleasure."

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note: Only two more chapters to go!<strong>

**In other news, _Line in the Sand_ is gonna get pushed back a bit, since I just got bit by a bunny thanks to the Obscure Ailments challenge on the NCIS Fanfiction Addiction forums site and an episode of True Life on MTV. The challenge is due January 3rd, so I need to get hopping on it. Thankfully, it's all plotted out and everything, so all I need to do is write! Wish me luck!**


	19. Chapter 19

Greater Good  
>An NCIS Fanfic<br>By CaelumFelis  
>Disclaimer: I don't own NCIS or anything associated with it.<p>

* * *

><p><em>Bethesda Naval Hospital<br>Bethesda, MD  
>0351 EST<em>

Tim's eyes jerked open, and his gaze flew around the room in a panic. No dust. No dirt. No bare wooden beams. No cold. No pain, except for a slight soreness in his chest. He was lying on a bed, with scratchy, bulk ordered sheets and a few rather lumpy pillows. There was something sunk into his elbow, and he glanced down to see an IV.

_Hospital?_ He wondered, glancing around again, more slowly and calmly this time. Yep, definitely a hospital room. Bethesda, by the looks of it.

A snore reached his ears, and Tim slowly turned his head to the right to find Gibbs slumped in a chair next to his bed, arms crossed over his chest, head tilted back, mouth wide open, snoring away like a lumberjack.

Tim smirked, or tried to around the thick tube jammed down his throat. Just as that thought crossed his mind, his body decided that it'd had enough of the tube, and he started coughing and gagging, causing his chest to erupt in pain. He groaned, and Gibbs jerked awake, pressing the call button for the nurse as he sat up and placed a hand on Tim's shoulder.

"Easy there, son, just take it easy," he rumbled gently, and Tim immediately relaxed, oddly reassured by the man's uncharacteristic show of kindness.

"What seems to be the problem, Agent Gibbs?" A nurse tiptoed through the door, whispering loudly. Tim wanted to roll his eyes- he was awake, and from the ache in his chest, he wasn't going back to sleep any time soon. There was really no need to be so quiet.

"He's awake, and fightin' the breathing tube," Gibbs growled.

The nurse nodded, and gently undid the straps holding the tube in place. "Now, Agent McGee, I need you to cough on the count of three, all right?" The nurse said. Tim nodded, and she firmly grasped the tube. "One, two, _three!"_

Tim coughed as hard as he could, ignoring the explosion of pain in his chest, as the nurse pulled the tube out. Once it was clear, Tim took a deep gasping breath, trying to dispel the nausea accompanied by his gag reflex.

"How're you feeling, Tim?" Gibbs asked.

Tim stopped and thought for a moment. Aside from some residual soreness in his chest, a very slight itching sensation in the skin on his chest, and a stinging in his side, he actually felt pretty good. Then he tried to speak, and his voice was non-existent. He blinked and tried again, but only came up with an undignified, unmanly squeak.

Gibbs chuckled, and Tim turned and scowled at him. He blinked and dropped into his zone, quickly locating Gibbs' cell phone. _Yeah, yeah, laugh riot._ He pushed the thought to Gibbs' phone, and jumped out of his zone in time to see Gibbs receive the message and grin.

"How're you feeling?" Gibbs asked again.

_Tired, sore, and itchy in some places, but otherwise can't complain,_ Tim replied, pushing the thought at Gibbs' phone without even bothering to go into his zone. It wasn't really necessary at such close range, anyway.

_What happened?_

"What do you remember?" Gibbs countered. Tim scowled, and tried to focus.

_Keating… he wanted me to locate metas,_ he said. _But the way he set it up… _

_I could tell he only wanted to kill time until he could kill me and _

_get away without leaving a trace of where he was heading. So I _

_started working on a way to get around the barriers that he put_

_around my zone to prevent me from reaching the rest of _

_cyberspace. It was ridiculously easy… but he'd stabbed _

_me when I first woke up, and he beat me up after _

_Allman called him to tell him about Booth, so that_

_even if I did do everything he said, I'd still be _

_pretty much dead afterwards._

Texting Gibbs' phone was annoying, and time consuming, but since he couldn't use his voice, and Gibbs didn't have a computer handy, it was all he could do. Tim waited for Gibbs to finish reading before going on.

_I broke through the barriers, found my GPS location, and_

_texted it to Tony before passing out. The next thing I _

_remember is waking up here, and watching you snore._

"I don't snore," Gibbs growled, smirking.

_Yes you do,_ Tim replied.

_Like a lumberjack._

Gibbs chuckled, and leaned forward to give Tim a very light headslap.

_Thanks boss! : D_, Tim said. Then he frowned.

_Did Sarah ever contact you?_

"Yep, about two and a half hours after Keating nabbed you," Gibbs said. "Didn't know you had two brothers and another sister."

Tim blushed. _They needed a home, and I could give them one,_ he sent.

Gibbs sat back. "Tell me about them," he said. "They're good kids, and I'm betting you're the one to thank for that."

Tim felt his face go even deeper red, and it took him a few tries before he could reply. _Can it wait until I can talk again?_

_Texting your phone is kind of annoying and time consuming_

_and it's a long story._

Gibbs shrugged. "If you want."

_Thanks_.

_Keating?_

"Went nuts in interrogation, confessed to everything, including the original breaking and entering and assault," Gibbs reported. "Apparently he was trying to join the Society, and killing a meta is considered initiation."

_Bastard,_ Tim sent.

"I asked him about your parents," Gibbs said, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees. "Asked if he knew who killed them."

Tim stared at his boss, barely breathing.

"He said he knew the guy's name, but that was it." Gibbs pulled a scrap of paper out of his inside jacket pocket, and handed it to Tim, who took it mutely.

_Commander James M. Duke, USN._

_Dad's commanding officer! _Tim thought blankly. Without really thinking about it, he dropped into his zone and started searching. Google yielded a blog, heavily encrypted, but Tim broke through without really even trying. He was greeted with a list of names and dates, spanning from before Tim was born to just a few years ago.

_July 25, 1991, 0232- Sean (aquakinetic) and Anna (telepathic) McGee, Alameda Naval Base. Double tap to chest._

_Down with metahumans!_

"Tim?" Gibbs' voice was faint, and Tim swallowed deeply before leaving his zone. As he opened his eyes, his gut twisted, and it must have shown on his face because Gibbs immediately grabbed the closest trash can and shoved it in front of him, just as he began heaving.

"Easy, son, easy," Gibbs murmured, gently squeezing the base of his neck. Tim paid him no attention, simply riding out the dry heaves as memories of that awful morning, memories he hadn't let himself think about for years, replayed over and over in his head. His alarm clock going off, set the night before in anticipation of a fishing trip with Dad, getting dressed and brushing his teeth (so Mom wouldn't lecture him about cavities), tiptoeing down to Mom and Dad's room and knocking on the door, getting no response.

Calling out to his parents, trying not to wake Sarah.

Opening the door.

Blood.

Holes in Dad's chest, leaking red.

Mom's eyes open, unseeing, staring in terror.

Backing away, closing the door.

Calling the police.

Questions with no answers.

Cmdr. Duke squeezing his shoulder sympathetically.

"_You'll be all right, Tim."_

Why?

He was suddenly aware of tears sliding down his face, a pair of strong arms wrapped gently around him. Gibbs' voice murmuring in his ear, speaking nonsense as his memories overwhelmed him.

"N-never t-t-told t-them 'b-b-bout b-being a-a-a t-t-techno-p-path," Tim rasped, needles shooting down his smoke seared throat. "T-t-too s-scared… t-t-thought t-they w-w-were g-g-gonna k-kick m-m-me o-out… b-b-but t-they w-w-were m-metas, t-t-too… n-n-never k-knew… t-t-they n-n-never t-t-told m-me… d-d-did t-they k-know 'b-bout t-t-the S-S-Society? A-a-always t-thought… i-i-it w-was m-m-my f-f-f-fault… b-b-but t-t-they w-w-were b-betrayed… b-b-by D-Dad's C-C-CO… h-h-his b-b-best f-friend…"

Tim didn't know how long he sobbed in Gibbs' arms, but the older man never let him go, never left for coffee or food or anything. He just held him, as Tim grieved anew for the parents he now knew had been betrayed by the one his father depended on to keep him safe in battle.

"I'm gonna find him," Tim growled, pulling away from Gibbs as his tears ceased. "I'm gonna find all of them. They'll pay for the lives they've taken and ruined. I'll make them pay!"

"No, Tim!" Gibbs grabbed his face and turned him, so that he was looking his boss straight in the eye. "Not like that. They'll pay all right, but they're gonna be put on trial and go to jail. You can't take vengeance into your own hands, Tim, it just makes you the same as them. Prove to them that you're human too, a better human being and a better man than they could ever hope to be. Don't degrade yourself by stooping to their level."

"Like you did?" Tim whispered.

Gibbs nodded. "That was a mistake, Tim, one I made with my judgment too clouded by rage to think of the consequences. I could've found a better way to avenge them, but I didn't, and I have to live with that for the rest of my life. Don't make the same mistake, Tim. Don't lose yourself to this."

"_What are you doing here?" Ziva and Tim ask simultaneously._

"_I asked first, McGee," she growls, her dark eyes narrowing at him._

"_Technically, it was a tie," he replies, frowning, "but since my parents raised a gentleman and yours raised a killer… I was defragging my computer."_

"I just want them back," Tim whispered. "I would give up everything I have right now just to have them back…"

"I know, son," Gibbs replied, gently squeezing the base of his neck, "and you'll see them again. But your siblings and your team are gonna make damn sure that we get to keep you for as long as we possibly can, you hear me? And if that means handcuffing you to one of us for the rest of your life to keep you from running off and shooting these bastards, then that's what we're gonna do. Your parents raised a gentleman, remember? A gentleman doesn't get his revenge through murder."

Tim nodded, giving his boss a tiny smile. Gibbs was right, as usual- he couldn't avenge his parents through cold blooded murder. He would get Duke and the rest of the Society the _right_ way, even if it took him the rest of his life.

"Now, why don't you go back to sleep?" Gibbs said, reclining the head of Tim's bed. "You're gonna need all your wits later to deal with the horde."

"Will do, Boss," Tim yawned, wincing as he stretched his sore throat. He blinked as a thought occurred to him. "You're staying, right Boss?"

Gibbs snorted. "Y'think I'm letting you out of my sight after this whole disaster, McGee? You bet your ass I'm stayin'. Now sleep, damn it."

"Yes Boss."

Tim closed his eyes, and let himself relax. Gibbs wouldn't let anything happen to him, and he really did need the rest, since his family was coming by later.

_Thanks, Mom and Dad… I'll be okay now._

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note: Wow, this has got to be the fastest cold turkey update I've ever done. One more chapter left!<strong>


	20. Chapter 20

Greater Good  
>An NCIS Fanfic<br>By CaelumFelis  
>Disclaimer: I don't own NCIS or anything associated with it.<p>

* * *

><p><em><strong>One week later…<strong>_

_Gibbs Residence  
>Hawthorne, Washington DC<br>0954 EST_

"You sure you know where you're going?" Tim asked. "Got enough gas? Gas money? Cell phones charged? You have my number, but do you have Gibbs' and Tony's and Ziva's and Abby's if you can't reach me?"

"TIM!" TK shouted from the back seat of Jon's Jeep Wrangler. "Jeez, _relax,_ would ya? It's not like we're going all the way to California or something!"

"Yet," Jon snickered, elbowing Damian in the arm.

"Very funny, Jon," Tim growled.

"Oh, Ziva just dropped Sarah off at Waverly!" TK announced, blue eyes glowing. "Time to go, guys!"

"Jon, you drive safe, you hear me?" Tim said. "You know where you're going?"

"Damn it Tim, I know where I'm going!" Jon exclaimed. "I'm not a complete idiot!"

"No, you're an incomplete idiot," Damian said.

"Shut up, pebbleface!"

"Make me, tealight!"

Tim shook his head, rubbing his temples wearily. _I love my brothers, I love my brothers, I love my brothers… I just want to shoot them sometimes._

"Boys."

Tim jumped as Gibbs appeared out of nowhere, glaring at the two younger men in the car. Both Jon and Damian jumped as well, the color draining out of their faces as they eyed Gibbs warily.

"You two keep that up, _I'm_ driving, got it?" Gibbs growled.

"Yes Boss!" The pair yelped in unison. Tim smirked. In the week that his siblings had been staying over with him at Gibbs' place, all four of them had had encounters with Gibbs' style of driving. Jon claimed the older man had nearly given him a heart attack, while Damian had barfed in Gibbs' rosebushes after each trip. TK, oddly enough, loved the rough and tumble way Gibbs handled his cars, claiming that it was "just like a roller coaster!"

"Got everything?" Tim asked. "Clothes, snacks, weapons, nav system…"

"We got everything, Tim," Jon assured him.

"And if we don't, I'll pay for postage," Damian smirked.

"You three behave yourselves out there, got it? Jon, no blasting cars that cut you off," Tim warned.

"Gotcha, Tim," Jon said, looking slightly dejected.

"TK, you listen to your brothers, and do what they say. Guys, don't antagonize your sister. And whatever you do, just don't kill each other or get killed, okay?"

"Yes Tim!" The three chorused, and Tim could've sworn they'd almost reached three part harmony.

"Damian, call me when you and TK get home, that goes for you too, Jon," Tim ordered.

"Can we go now, _please!"_ TK groaned. "I've already missed a week of school, and I've got midterms to study for!"

"All right, you three, get going, traffic's gonna be a mess," Tim said, smiling.

"Bye Tim! Bye Boss!" TK called.

"Boss, you take care of Tim for us, or else!" Damian yelled.

"That boat'll make some fine kindling!" Jon hooted, shooting a small flame up into the air as they drove off.

Tim gulped, watching the beat up, formerly-black-but-now-a-dusty-charcoal Wrangler careen down the street and out of sight.

_Please, please, please, be safe_, he thought.

"They'll be fine, Tim," Gibbs rumbled, clapping Tim on the shoulder. "They're all smart, and you taught 'em pretty damn well."

"I know," Tim sighed. "I just…"

"It's hard letting them go, huh?" Gibbs said quietly.

"Yeah," Tim groaned. "I was a basket case when Sarah went off to college… had nightmares every night for two months about her getting found by the Society... and then when Damian moved to Baltimore, and TK wanted to go with him…"

Gibbs chuckled. "I almost didn't let Kelly go to kindergarten, since Kelly didn't want to go, but Shannon convinced me to "let her try". She ended up loving it so much that she came home the first day and said she wanted to be a teacher when she grew up." He winked at Tim. "They'll be all right, you'll see. They'll be back for Christmas, remember? Damian promised to help me get the boat out of my basement."

Tim laughed. "And then Jon's gonna torch it and Abby's gonna lead everyone in voodoo dancing around it. Yeah, I remember." He paused for a moment, trying to think of how to say what he wanted to say. "Boss, I don't think I ever thanked you for everything you've done the last couple of weeks. Or in my case, the last several years or so."

"Y'don't thank family, Tim," Gibbs growled. "You thank whoever it was that gave 'em to ya. Now come on, I'm gonna show you how to pick a lock from the inside. You get stuck in some cellar again, I want to make sure you damn well know how to get out."

Tim laughed, and followed his boss inside. Just before he closed the door, he closed his eyes and dropped into his zone, tracking down his family.

Tony was at his apartment, probably sleeping off his hangover from the goodbye party Abby had thrown for Sarah, Jon, Damian, and TK. Abby herself was out in rural Virginia doing another Habitat for Humanity build. Ziva was en route from Waverly to her favorite gym. Ducky was in Dupont Circle, probably getting a head start on his Christmas shopping. Palmer and his fiancée Breena were in Arlington, in a wedding shop (he didn't envy poor Jimmy in the least). Sarah was in her college dorm room, probably catching up on sleep or studying, and Jon, Damian, and TK were tearing up I-95 towards Baltimore. Tim had half a mind to call them and yell at them to slow down, but he knew that they'd only go faster just to turn his hair gray prematurely.

"_McGee! Get the hell down here, I haven't got all day!"_

Tim blinked and grinned, closing the door. His whole family were all safe and accounted for, and he was about to spend the day with the closest thing he had to a father.

If there was any greater good, Tim didn't know what it was.

_**The End**_

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note: Well, ladies and gents, this is the end! Thank you to everyone for your reviews, favorites, alerts, and just all around incredible support. If 150 reviews and counting ain't love, then I don't know what is!<strong>

**There's a very slim chance of a sequel here, but since this story alone went through almost five complete redrafts before it became the version you see before you today, I have to say that it will probably be a very long time before I get the inclination to write a sequel.**

**Anyway, stay tuned for my next work, _Periphery_, my entry into the Obscure Ailments Challenge on NFA. It's due January 3rd, so you'll probably see bits and pieces of it before that. And I promise that I'll get to _Line in the Sand_, _Periphery_'s going to take precedence though, due to the fact that it actually has a due date.**

**Until next time folks, Happy Reading!**


End file.
